









►.■jf.' '""-^S/ '^"X'h'i"''''^**'''" ''-'••-1 '•*' ''■ 



!!?PP™i"SrK*;l'* l-'tV!"; !'''h" v^.-'j •' ;'■'."■'-' 



i'jvs.v^'iVA- 





|A|W'y«-llf^* *M1K s'* ' • f- ' -'it *-»- 'k.,. . 1 .* \, ~ 

■ .; ■■:^j!^fe^--^-/;;:..riJ:.!'r:;'--r':'- 

..' *■ ,Vji) ..^T-.:,r';;.i\.'',*;'i'"l;r,'. 











/ 




LATE EMPRESS EUGENIE. 



SIGHTS AND SENSATIONS 



EUROPE 



SKETCHES OP 



TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE IN ENGLAND, IRELAND, FRANCE, 
SPAIN, PORTUGAL, GERMANY, SWITZERLAND, ITALY, 
AUSTRIA, POLAND, HUNGARY, HOLLAND, AND 
BELGIUM, WITH AN ACCOUNT OF THE 
PLACES AND PERSONS PROMI- 
NENT IN THE FRANCO- 
GERMAN W^AR. 



. 1 



t1 



s 



vJTJIsriTJS SIEiTI?.! BI^O"W^:' 

Authw of " F(yur Years in Secessia,'''' and " The Great Metrvpolis." 




I'H.OI'XJSJBIj-X" IIjIjXTS1'H..A.a?:B30. 



PUBLISHED BY SUBSOEIPTIOM 0NL7. 



HARTFORD, CONN.: 
J^l^lSmiCJ^N PXJBLISHIT^a- COJ^FJ^N-Y. 

FRANCIS DEWING & CO., SAN FRANCISCO, CAL. 

1871. 



THE LIBRARY 
OF CONGRESS 

WASHINGTON 



d5 



\9 



3^' 



Entered according to act of Congress, in year 1871, by 

AMERICAN PUBLISHING CO., 
in the office of the Librarian of Consrress at Washington. 



Those Who Have Been to Europe, 
And To Those Who Have Not, 

(such as it is), 

Jn the Hope that the Two Classes M.ay Become 
ITS Purchasers, 



Js/A 



ercenarily nscribed. 



PEEFAOE. 



Fou some reason, never made clear to me, every American is 
supposed to know all about Europe. I always fancied such complete 
knowledge to be mine until I went abroad, and found my mistake. 
In attempting to describe so many countries in a single volume 
much of the description must necessarily be mere outline. I have 
devoted the most space to what seemed least familial', and have tried 
to give clearly and unambitiously a general view of the Old World. 
My theme, I am aware, is very ancient, and if its treatment prove 
tiresome, the fault must be ascribed to the author's good fortune (the 
reader's corresponding ill fortune is not here to be taken into account) 
in securing that most desirable of all critics — a Publisher. "While the 
book has been going through the press, the situation in France has 
changed so rapidly that I have sj)oken for the most part of the coun- 
try and the capital as if the War had not been. 

J. H. B. 

New York, May, 1871. 




PAQB 

Late Empress Eugenie Frontispiece. — 

All Sebestb 18 

Shaved in Two Minutes 22 

TippiNQ 25 

Good for a Sotereign 26 

Third Class Railway Carriage 28 

A Hansom Cab 30 

St. Paul's Cathedral 33 

Street Beggar 35 

A Fleet Street Groggert 36 

Sptjrgeon 40 

Bathing at Htde Park 44 

Delivering the " Times " 45 

After the Dance 47 

An English Beautt 48 

Tower of London (Full Page), pace page 64 

Shakespeare 66 

My Guidb 67 

Shakespeare's House » 70 

Fatal News ' 74 

Tunnel IN THE MiNB 76 

Nelson's Monument 104 

Peggy on her Low Back Car 107 

Monument to Daniel O'Connell 108 

"May You Niver Want a Pound " 112 

Boulevard St. Michel 129 

Place de la Bastille 130 

Universal Politeness 132 

The Hotel de Ville 134 

Graves of Abelard and Heloise 137 

Church op St. Genevieve 138 

Church op St. Sulpice 139 

Hotel des Invalides 140 

Paris Views and Buildings (Full Page), pace page 160 

Napoleon El. (Full Page), pace page 186 



8 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

General MacMahon (Foil Page), face page 216 

Mountain Travel (Full Page), pace page 234 

Madrid (Full Page), face page 240 

Bull Fight (Full Page), face page 256 

Peasant Costume 291 

Peasant Costume 293 

German Festival 296 

Beer Drinking 300 

Bismarck (Full Page), pace page 320 

Gambling Scene (Full Page), pace page 340 

Emperor William (Full Page), face page 356 

Emperor's Palace— Berlin 358 

Prince Frederic William 359 

Palace of the Crown Prince 300 

Prince Frederic Charles 363 

Baron Von Moltke 365 

Lake Como (Full Page), face page 379 

Climbing Mont Blanc (Full Page), pace page 400 

Genoese Women 480 

Columbus Monument 431 

Church Beggars 435 

Leaning Tower 436 

Wayside Shrine 437 

Live Saint 467 

A Dead Saint 469 

The Vatican 472 

St. Peter's, Rome 474 

The Pope Blessing the Populace . . 475 

The Pope's Hat 476 

Bat op Naples (Full Page), face page 480 

Garden Scene (Full Page), face page 528 

Down the Shaft 534 

Getting Out Salt 537 

Fete in the Grand Chamber 538 

The Ihferkal Lake 540 




CHAPTER I. 

ON AND OVER SEA. 



PAGE. 



Ocean Travel— The Advantage of Freedom from Sea Sickness— A Quoter 
of Poetiy Justly Punished— The Sentiment of a Bridal Couple Destroy- 
ed by a Storm— First Impressions of England— Liverpool and its Lions 
—Its "Wealthy Merchants— Custom House Officers, .... 17 

CHAPTER n. 

LONDON. 

Match- Vending a Pretext for Begging— Tipping as a Social Science-The 
Theaters— A Tragedian of the Past— Droll Scene at Sadlers Wells- 
Cabs and Cabmen— A LabjTinthine City— The Times Establishment— 
St. Paul's— Billingsgate— Over Eight Thousand Spirit Shops— Drunk- 
en Women Repulsively Abundant, 24 

CHAPTER III. 

SPUKGEON. 

The Tabemacle-The Great Crowd in Attendance-Paying for Admissioa 
—Appearance and Manner of the Famous Clergyman— The Whole 
Congregation Singing— The Secret of his Power and Popularity, . 39 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE BRITISH METROPOLIS, 

Some Of its Notable Features-The Daily Press-Strange Scandal about 



the Duke of Wellington— Evenings at the Alhambra-A Peculiar Ball 
at the Cremome Gardens-White Bait-English Beauty-The Estab- 
lished Church— Dean Stanley of Westminster, 



43 



xii CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XV. 

MAGNIFICENCE OF PARIS. 

PAGE. 

Pere la Chaise — Disappointment in the Cemetery — Search for the Tomb of 
Abelard and Heloise — Women of the Humble Class Moved by Senti- 
ment — Abelard one of the Most Heartless and Selfish of Men — The 
Churches of the City — The Hotel des Invalides and Tomb of Napoleon 
— The Bourse — Frantic Stocli-Buyers — Screaming Speculators — A 
Complete Financial Bedlam — A Foolish Follower of Fortune — A Young 
Man Wasting Life for Wealth — A Mother's Agony over the Cradle of 
her Child, 136 

CHAPTER XVI. 

LIFE IN PARIS. 

A Bad Place for Bad Tendencies — How Young Men Study on the Conti- 
nent — The "Grand Duchess" Schneider — The Women of the Capital 
— Difficulty Pretty Girls Have in Securing Places — Their Countless 
Temptations — American Women on the Seine — Cheap and Satisfactory 
Living — Story of La Ferine, the Popular News-Dealer — Adroit Adver- 
tising in Her Behalf. -143 

CHAPTER XVII. 

NOVELTIES OF PARIS. 

The French Capital as a Wicked City — The Cocotte Balls — The Valentino, 
Casino, Chateau Rouge, Closerie de Lilas, and Jardin Malille — Unique 
and Extraordinary Dancing — Indecency of the Can-Can — Singular 
Mode of Getting Rid of a Wife — Ingenious Manner of Making a Repu- 
tation — Peculiar Experience at the Morgue — Romantic Fiction about 
Clarisse Demorne — New Way of Gaining a Livelihood, ... 149 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

ROMANCE AND MURDER IN PARIS. 

French Love of Horror — The Great Sensation of the ' Pantin Murder — Ar- 
tistic Treatment of Subjects by the Press — The Sentimental Cut-Throat 
of the Rue St. Honore — A Waiter's Inability to Understand Strict Ce- 
libacy — The Notorious Theresa as a Singer — The Original of Camille— 
Parisian Students — A Young Coxcomb Playing the Part of a Blase 
Man of the World — The Convenience of Spealdng French, - - -155 

CHAPTER XLX. 

CATACOMBS OF PARIS. 

Their Situation and Extent — Three and a Half Millions of Persons Buried 
in Them — Setting out on the Dismal Excursion — Groping in the Dark- 
ness — Ghastly Display of Bones and Skulls — The Grinning Hideousness 
of Death — Victims of the Great Revolution — Theological Inscriptions — 
Sight-Seers Lost in the Sombre Labyrinth — Their Terrible Sufferings 
. — ^And Lingering Agony — The Relief of the Bright Sunshine, -- -161 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XX. 

SOCIAL STATUS OF PARIS. 

PAGI. 

France Morally Misunderstood — The Capital not so Black as Painted — Par- 
isian Ethics — The Life of a Lorette on the Seine — The Demi-Monde 
and its Spheres — The Educated Mistress — The Grisette — The Advent- 
uress — A Glittering but Wretched Career^The Professional Cyprian — 
The Promenaders on the Boulevards — The Reckless Night- AValkers — 
Peace at last in the Morgue — Storm and Sunshine — Pain and Pleasure 
Strangely Blended, 167 

CHAPTER XXI. 

THE CHIFFONNIEES OF PARI?. 

Everything Reduced to a System — Six Hundred Men, "Women, and Children 
Engaged in Rag-Picking — Their Industry and Dexterity — Nothing Es- 
capes Them — The Paradise this Country Would Prove — An Unbroken 
Bottle a Rare Prize — Great Excitement over Thi-ee Glass Vessels — 
Where and How They Live — The Fortune of the Fork — Soup of All 
Sorts — The Rag Merchants — Prices Paid for the Miscellaneous Gather- 
ings — Independence and Honesty of the Tribe — Contented in their Own 
Way, - - 174 

CHAPTER XXIL 

LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

Mystery of his Birth — Early Incidents of his Life — His One Absorbing 
Thought to Rule France — His Mortifying Failures — Final Success — 
The Famous Coup d'Etat — Return of Adversity — the World's Judg- 
ments Unstable — Constant Anxieties and Apprehensions of the Emperor 
— What His Friends Claim for Him — His Complex Character — How 
he Looks, ^80 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE EX-EMPRESS EUGENIE. 

Her Romantic and Eventful Career— Her Cosmopolitan Nature— How She 
Brought the Emperor to Terms— Great Popularity with the People — 
The Secret Histoiy of her Estrangement from her Husband— Her Loss 
of Public Favor through her Superstition— Sending the State Jewels to 
the Pope— Noble Bearing in Adversity— Sympathy with the Woman in 
her Sorrow, '^^ 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

HENRI ROCHEFORT. 

A Thorough Parisian— His Passion for Excitement— Personal Appearance 
of the Irreconcilable Journalisf— His Resemblance to a Mississipjjian or 
Arkansan— A Cool Head and Hot Heart— An Aristocratic Democrat— 
A Red Republican through Wounded Vanity— rHis Power with the 
Masses— A Formidable and Unyielding Foe, 191 



^^ CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

THE CHIEF FRENCH CITIES. 

PAOB. 

Radical Views and Sentiments of the South— Lyons— The Silk and Velvet 
Manufactures — Antiquity of the City — Suburban Residences of the 
"Wealthy Merchants — Prosaic Version of PauUne Deschapelles and 
Claude Melnotte's Romance — Marseilles — A Great Seaport — All Na- 
tions Represented There — The Province of Normandy — Rouen — Its 
Churches— Tomb of William the Conqueror — Havre — Cherbourg, - 195 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

SCENES OF THE WAR. 

Geography Made Interesting by Battle — The Rhine Frontiei* — Champagne 
— The Old Province Idealized — The Region and the People as They 
Actually Are — The Stronghold of Metz — Its Loss Very Serious to the 
French — The Ancient City of Nancy — Verdun — Chalons — Rhcims, the 
Coronation Place of the Gallic Kings — Sedan and the Downfiill of the 
Empire — The Rivers Meuse, Moselle, Loire, and Seine — the Vosges 
Mountains — The Duchy and City of Luxemburg — The Strongest Forti- 
fications Defied by the German Armies — Strasburg, its Cathedral, Char- 
acteristics, and Defences — Versailles and its Splendors — Tours — Orleans 
— Bordeaux — ^Fontainebleau and St. Cloud — Ravages of the War, - 203 

CHAPTER XXVn. 

THE FRENCH LEADERS. 

Generals Uhrich, MacMahon, Bazaine, Bourbaki, Chanzy, Faidherbe, and 
Trochu — Principal Events in their Lives — Analysis of their Characters 
— Thiers— His Bitter Opposition to Germany — A Very Energetic Old 
Man — Jules Favre — His Personal Appearance — Leon Gambetta — An 
Italian-Looking Frenchman — A Restless and Daring Nature, - - 214 

CHAPTER XXVm. 



A Land of Inconsistencies and Anomalies — Glorious Visions Destroyed by 
Travel — Journeying Beyond the Pyrenees — Excessive Politeness — Ec- 
centricities of Etiquette — Mine Host at Valladolid — A Calesero at Bur- 
gos — Theological Courtesies — Great Outward Reserve of the Women — 
A Mantilla more Important than Marriage — National Opposition to 
Haste — Gallantry an Expensive Habit in Andalusia — Money the Open 
Sesame Everywhere. 221 



CONTENTS. XV 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

TfiAVELING IN SPAIN. 

PAGE. 

The Diligencia as a Means of Conveyance — Rongh-and-Tumble Riding — 
Studying Character on the Road — Muleteers and their Oddities — The 
Maragatos — A Guest at One of their Weddings — Their Melancholy and 
Rudeness — The Coach of Horse Collars — The Master and his Assistant 
Swearing at and Stoning Mules — The Great Event of Starting from a 
"Wayside Inn — Ludicrous Scenes — Castilian Peasants — Native Dignity, 230 

CHAPTER XXX. 

THE CAPITAL. 

Burgos — Spires of Open Stone-Work — Grave of the Cid — His Corpse Knock- 
ing Down a Jew — Valladolid — Unpleasantness of Madrid — Vain Ef- 
forts to Remove the Capital — Its Dangerous Climate — Madrilenian 
Manner of Living — The Castilian's Idea of his Family — His Unquench- 
able Thirst — Gloomy Streets and Squares — Professional Mendicants — 
Ghastly Spectacles — The Bare and Dusty Prado — The Royal Palace — 
Descent into the Pantheon — The Sarcophagi of Kings, - - - 240 

CHAPTER XXXL 

BULL FIGHTS. 

A Disagreeable Duty of Travel — The Bull Ring — The Spectators— Intro- 
ductory Flee-Catching — Fashionable Women and their Cavaliers — 
Beginning of the Savage Sport — A Frightened Beast — Disgust of the 
Audience — Better Success — Bloody Brutality — Sickening Sight — 
Horses Disemboweled — Murder Most Foul — A Squeamish American 
Retires — Disapproval of his Conduct, - _- 253 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

ANDALUSIA. 

Tropical Aspect of the South — Effects of the Sun — True Poetry, Romance, 
and Chivalry — ^Primitive Customs and Singular Superstitions — The 
City of Seville — The Cathedral — The Alcazar — The Great Govemment 
Tobacco Factory — Hideous Women — Holy Week and its Absurd Dis- 
plays — The Annual Fair — Decay of Commerce — A Street Picture for 
Murillo — Aged Poverty, Careless Childhood, and Brute Instinct United, 259 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

GRANADA. 

The Old Moorish Capital — Danger of Romantic Situations — Sentiment Op- 
posed to Logic — A Susceptible American Girl Loses her Heart to an 
Adventurer — A French Courier Playing the Part of a Ruined Nobleman 
— An Awkward Dilemma — What the Alhambra Maybe Responsible For 
— The Grand Fortress-Palace — The Tomb of Ferdinand and Isabella — 
From Malaga to Granada on Top of a Dihgence — The Driver's Opin- 
ion of the Model Republic — Drowsy Effect of Inferior Castilian, - - 265 



xvi CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

LISBON. 

Improvement of the Portuguese Capital — Its Picturesque Appearance from 
the Tagus— Site of the Inquisition— The District of the Terrible Earth- 
quake — An Extraordinary Sermon — The Roman Catholic Milennium 

Predicted — What it Will be — A Mixed Population — The Gallegos 

Strange Currency — Fabulous Prices for the Opera — The City not very 
Attractive to Strangers, -. 273 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

ALONG THE RHINE. 

Stuttgart— A Tailor Made a Baron— Carlsruhe— Heidelberg— Its Old Cas- 
tle—A Superb Ruin, and a Strange History — The University — German 
Students Anything but Picturesque or Interesting— Mannheim— An 
Economical Place to Live— Mainz— Its Handsome Bridge of Boats— 
The Markets in the Public Square— The Rhine and its Scenery— The 
Winding Moselle— German Enthusiasm over Everything German, - 278 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

GERMANY. 

Some of the Prominent Cities— Then- Distinctive Features- Wilhelmshohe 
—Louis Napoleon's Captivity There— The Rothschilds— Their Rise, 
Prosperity, and Power— Goethe's House in Frankfort— Baron Trenck's 
Prison at Magdeburg— The Book Trade and Great Fairs of Leipsic, - 286 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

AUGSBURG AND MUNICH. 

An Old and Interesting City— The Fugger Family— Its Immense Fortunes 
Made by Commerce — Emperors Indebted to the Descendants of a 
Weaver— Superb Bronzes and Ideal Beer— German Thirst Unquencha- 
ble—The German Cemeteries— Exposure of the Dead before Burial 

Ghastly and Repulsive Scenes— Vulgar Curiosity of the Crowd, - - 298 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

DRESDEN. 

Babies and Food— The German Appetite and its Superabundant Needs- 
Charming Journey down the Elbe— The Scenery along the River- The 
Capital of Saxony — Its Pleasant Situation— A Desirable Place of Resi- 
dence—The Great Gallery— The Magnificent Treasures of the Green 
Vault— The Most Splendid Diamond Collection in the World— Invit- 
ing Suburbs and Delightful Gardens, 306 



CONTENTS. xvij 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 



PAGE. 



Rapid Growth of the City— Its Promising Future — Its American Appear- 
ance — Not Attractive in its Architecture — The Unter den Linden a 
Deep Disappointment — Pictures at the National Gallery — Feminine 
Criticism of Lovers on Canvas — The Ballet at the Opera House — The 
Tiergarten — The Popular Fondness for Festivity — The Famous Bronze 
Statue of Frederic the Great, 312 

CHAPTER XL. 

BISMARCK. 

His Ancestors — Wild Life as a Student — Audacious Wife-Wooing — Quitting 
the Army for Politics — Superb Snubbing of a Pompous Count — His 
Success as a Diplomatist — German Unity his Ruhng Idea — Prosperous 
Mission to Russia — Embassador to Paris — The Chancellor a Born Aris- 
tocrat — His Long Course of Hectoring — Louis Napoleon's Boast — Re- 
venge at Sedan — Personal Ajipearance of the Man, - - - -318 

CHAPTER XLI. 

POTSDAM. 

Inconsistencies and Idiosyncrasies of Frederic the Great — One of the Worst 
of Poets and Most Singular of Heroes — His Marble Tomb — The Sum- 
mer Palace of Baalsberg — A Very Comfortable and Truly Refined Home 
— The New and Old Palaces — The Orangery and Sans Souci — De- 
lightful Gardens — Triumph of Art over Nature — Vast Fortunes Ex- 
pended in Beautifying Grounds and Laying Out Parks, - - - 323 

CHAPTER XLII. 

THE GERMAN GAJMBLING SPAS — BADEN-BADEN. 

Topography of the Place — Graceful Masking — The Tiger in Velvet — Inte- 
rior of the Conversation-House — What is Done and What is to be Seen 
There — The Excitement of Hazard — A Retired Merchant of Antwei-p 
Playing at Roulette — A Venerable and Superstitious Gamester — An 
Englishman Gambling for Distraction — A Fast Young American Ruin- 
ed at Trente-et-Quarantc — A Desperate Italian Adventurer — A Suspic- 
ious Rover — The Restless Woman who Always Loses — The Wife of a 
Noted Musician Staking her Florins — Seductive and Dangerous Gayety 
— Hypocrisy of the Direction, 329 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

WIESBADEN. 

The TowTi and its Waters — The Health-Seekers and Pleasure-Hunters — The 
Former in the Minority — The Kursaal — The Crowd at the Gaming 
Tables — The Secret of Fortune — The Blindness and Unreason of the 
Votaries of Play — Age and Avarice — Youth and Recklessness — Femi- 
nine Gamesters — Those who Risk Much and Those who Risk Little — 
The Infatuation of Trente-et-Quarante — The Volcano Beneath the 
Snow, 33t> 



xviii - CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XLIV. 

HOMBOUEG. 

PAGB. 

Superb Saloons and "Well-Bred Management — Mode of Playing Roulette 
and Trente-et-Quarante — The Folly of Studying Combinations — Men 
Bent on Ruin — Women Wrought to Desperation — How Different Na- 
tions Gamble — The German Cautious — The Englishman Variable — 
The Spaniard Anxious — The Frenchmiin Excited — The Italian Reflect- 
ive — The Russian Free-Handed — The American Careless — Delightful 
Gardens — A Quiet Spot for Bankrupts to Commit Suicide — Love-Mak- 
ing in Public — A New Order Needed — " All Kissing Forbidden Here," 342 

CHAPTER XLV. 

EMS. 

Situation and Age of the Watering Place — The Quality of its Patrons — A 
Pair of Hypochondriacs — The Silent Enigma — What would You not 
Give to Pluck out the Heart of her Mystery ? — A Princely Blackguard 
— Singular Confessions of an Adventuress — The Other Side of a Shad- 
owed Life Clearly Revealed — A Woman Tried in the Crucible of Aflflic- 
tion — "Wliich is the Dross and Which the Gold 1 — Personal Losses — A 
Debt that Never will be Collected, 349 

CHAPTER XLVI. 

EMPEROR WILLIAM AND THE CROWN PRINCE. 

William's Antecedents — What he is, What he has Been, and What he 
Might Have Been — His Rare Good Fortune — Analysis of his Character 
— No Favorite with his Liberal Subjects — The Prince's Good and Bad 
Qualities — More Popularity than his Father — Will he Improve or In,- 
jure the Succession "? 356 

CHAPTER XLVII. 

THE PRUSSIAN ARMY AND ITS CHIEFS. 

The Military Organization and Service of the Country — Prince Frederic 
Charles — General Von Moltke — Steinmctz — Von Werder — Manteuffel 
and Von Roon — What they Have Done and How they Look — Their 
Individual Capacities, 361 

CHAPTER XLVIII. 

MONT CENI8. 

Railroad up the Mountain — Heavy Grades — View of the Valley — Susa — 
The Great Tunnel — Machineiy Used for Excavating — Immense Drills 
— Effects of a Blast — Accidents — Rate of Progress — Ultimate Success, 368 



CONTENTS. Xix 

CHAPTER XLIX. 

SWITZERLAND AND NORTH ITALY. 

PAGE. 

Boundary Lines — Character of the Swiss — Magnificence of the Country and 
Wretchedness of the People — Lake Como — Claude and Pauline — 
Handsome Villas and Towns — Mountains and Islands — Alpine Passes 
— Down the Mountain, 377 

CHAPTEE L. 

IN SWITZERLAND. 

Swiss Cottages — Lake Geneva — Castle of Chillon — Geneva — Watch-Mak- 
ing — John Calvin — Jean Jacques Rosseau — Americans Abroad, - - 386 

CHAPTER LI. 

CLIMBING MONT BLANC. 

Training for the Task — The Vale of Chamonix — Introductory Excursions 
— The Earliest Ascents — Defiance of the Sublime Peak — Prepared with 
Cords, Hooks, and Ladders to Set Out — Slippeiy Climbing — Endless 
Snow and Ice — Frozen Feet and Burning Brain — Perilous Crossing of 
Crevasses — Danger at Eveiy Step — Dreadful Accident on the Matter- 
horn — Five Men over a Frightful Precipice — On a Ladder along Yawn- 
ing Chasms — At the Grands Mulcts — Falling into Crevasses — The 
Summit Always Retreating — Remarkable Glaciers — The Top at Last 
— The Climber and the Sensation Exhausted, 394 

CHAPTER LIL 

THE BERNESE OBERLAND AND VICINITY. 

On Foot among the Alps — Swiss Cascades — Grand Panorama from the 
Little Scheideck — The Grindelwald Glaciers — Avalanches — How they 
Look — Entire Towns Destroyed by Them — Disastrous Flood — Wrest- 
ling Matches — The City of Lucerne — Its Sculptured Lion — The Town 
of Zurich, 404 

CHAPTER LIII. 

SWITZERLAND CONTINUED. 

Freiburg — Its Picturesque Position — The Town and Lake of Neuchatel — 
Basel — A Council of Five Hundred Wrangling Priests — The Battle of 
St. Jacob — Bern, and its Passion for Bears — The National Councils — 
An Example Worthy of American Imitation — A Famous Clock — Va- 
riety of the Little Republic — The Common Mode of Seeing it, - » 412 

CHAPTER LIV. 

GRAND SWISS SHOOTING FESTIVAL. 

The Gathering at Zug — All the Cantons Represented — An Enthusiastic 
Crowd — Arrangement and Appearance of the Grounds — Energetic Eat- 
ing and Drinking — Practical Democracy — The Temple of Prizes — The 
Shooting Gallery — Personal Experiments with the Swiss Guns — Aa 
American Reception without Americans, 419 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER LV. 

NORTHERN ITALY. 

PAGE. 

First Entrance into the Poetic Land — Dreamy Atmospheres and Dulcet 
Nightingales — Turin — Too Much Catechism and Too Little Soap and 
Water — A Religious Quadruped — Vision of the Stillettoes — Genoa — Its 
Unique Character — Living in an Old Palace — Decayed Noblemen as 
Humble Tradesmen — Italian Fondness for Reading — Horace Greeley 
in Choice Tuscan — Galley Slaves — Ligurian Women — Columbus' Mon- 
ument — Peculiar Charitable Institution — Inducements Offered for Mar- 
riage and Pauperism, 424 

CHAPTER LVI. 

MIDDLE ITALY. 

Pisa — The Leaning Tower, Cathedral, and Campo Santo — Superabund- 
ance of Beggars — European Mode of Kissing — Piacenza — Parma — Mode- 
na — Bologna — An Experiment with the Renowned Sausage — The Gari- 
senda and AsinelU Towers — A Contented and Philosophic Cobbler — 
The Secret Love of King Enzio and Lucia Vendagoli — The Sad Trag- 
edy of Imelda and Bonifazio — A New Illustration for Sentimentalists, - 434 

CHAPTER LVII. 

LIFE AND TRAVEL IN ITALY. 

The Climate and its Discomforts — The Italians Much Misrepresented — 
Continental Politeness and Continental Wines — The Make-Believe La- 
bors of Servants — The Old Town of Forli — Startling Adventure at the 
Opera — A Band of Brigands on the Stage — The Entire Audience Rob- 
bed in the Politest Manner — Serio-Comic Scenes — Frightened Men 
and Fainting Women — The Released Manager Apologizes — Mimic Life 
after Real Danger — A Blase Traveler in Search of Novelties, - - 445 

CHAPTER LVIII. 

FLORENCE. 

The City During May — Gayety of the Caseine — The Tuscan Capital Unde- 
• serving of its Reputation — Italian Dislike to Foreigners — Pen-Photo- 
graph of Victor Emanuel — The Piazza della Signoria — Its Celebrated 
Statues — Dining under the Sky — Mozart and the Apennines as Sauce 
and Savor — The Italian Passion for Prattle — Patois of the People — 
Their Pretended Knowledge of Language, ...... 455 

CHAPTER LIX. 

ROME. 

The Lifeless Nature of the City — What Roman Catholicism Enjoins — Re- 
vivification of Paganism — The Cenci Palace a Tenement House — The 
True Story of Beatrice — Guide's Celebrated Picture — The Bliss of 



CONTENTS. sxi 



PAOB. 



Being Broiled on Gridirons and Fricasseed for Breakfast — Burial of a 
' Saint, and the Assistance of a Heretic Thereat — Imposing Ceremony — 
Fragmentary Marbles — Theory Conceming their Lost Members — The 
Laocoon, Apollo and Venus of the Capitol — Hundredsof Millions Worth 
of Churches — Exaggerated Martyrdom of the Early Christians — The 
Pope as a Man and a Priest — Theological Breadth and Squeamish- 
ness — The Roman Ballet Girls — The Cross and the Devil Banished 
from the Stage — Luci-ezia Borgia under a New Name — The Catacombs 
— Sixty Millions of Bodies Buried in Them — Following a Monk with a 
Torch to See Skeletons, 464 

CHAPTER LX. 

NAPLES. 

The Principal Streets and their Peculiarities — The Manufacture and Dis- 
play of Jewelry — The Beautiful Bay — Pulchinella — The Favorite 
Amusement of the Common People — Manners and Morals of the Nea- 
politans — The Destruction of Stabiie almost Forgotten — Castellammare 
on the Old Site — EiToneous Ideas Concerning the Buried Cities — Di- 
■vine Blessings in Disguise — Remarkable Concealment of the Catastrophe 
for Seventeen Centuries — Herculaneum and Pompeii Discovered by the 
Merest Accident — Strange Understanding of Luxury — The Ancient 
Romans' Mode of Living — Their Peculiar Morals — The Vestal Virgins 
— Temples, ^aths, and Theaters — Appearance of the Ruins, - - 478 

CHAPTER LXL 

CLIMBING VESUVIUS. 

How to Make the Ascent — ^Annoyances at the Outset — Neapolitan Guides — 
A Donkey too Courageous to Run — Urging Beasts by the Tail — An 
American in Distress — Ludicrous Manner of Rendering Assistance — 
Clambering up the Mountain in a Storm — Wind, Rain, Ashes, and 
Scoria — Smoking Cinders and Hot Lava under Foot — Roasting Eggs 
in Volcanic Cinders — A Yawning Gulf of Fire — Awful Appearance of 
the Immense Crater — Almost Suffocated by Sulphurous Fumes — Mag- 
nificent Panorama from the Top — Rapid and Exciting Descent — Re- 
treating from a Mob, - -■ • - - 487 

CHAPTER LXIL 

VENICE. 

The Most Romantic City of the World — Its Notable Places and Buildings 
— The Merceria, Piazza, and Piazetta — The Rialto — The Ducal Palace 
— Its Interior — Reminiscences of Venetian History— Portraits of the 
Doges — Marino Faliero's Vacant Space Di"aped in Black — Descent into 
the Dungeons with Torches — Gloom and Horror of the Prisons — The 
Bridge of Sighs — Popular Errors Concerning It — Gondola-Riding by 
Moonlight — Eveiy Part of the Town Accessible On Foot — The Islands 
—The Glass Works at Murano — Torcello and Chioggia, - - - 494 



xxii CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER LXm. 

OUT-OF-THE-WAT CITIES. 

PAGE. 

Rimini — Its Past and Present — Poor Francesca — Attempt to Prosify her 
Melancholy Story — Memorials of the Early Christians — Byron's House 
and Haunts — His Kindness and Benevolence — His Memory Still Revered 
— Ferrara — Its Medieval Flavor — The Grand Ducal Castle — Hugo and 
Parasina — Tasso's Doubtful Prison — The Palace of Lucrezia Borgia — 
A Beautiful Fiend Full of Deadly Surprises, 503 

CHAPTER LXIV. 

LOMBARDT. 

Verona as Fancied and Verona as Found — The Amphitheater — Tombs of 
the Scaligers — Vanity Stronger than Death — Romeo and Juliet — Impo- 
sition upon Travelers — A Common Horse-trough Palmed Off upon the 
Public for Mrs. Montague's Tomb — Milan — The Peerless Cathedral — 
Watching a Storm in the Alps from its Tower — La Scala Opera House, 511 

CHAPTER LXV. 

DOWN THE DANUBE. 

The Danube — Rise and Course — Capital of Upper Austria — Steamboats — 
An Admirable Sandwich — Noted Persons and Places — Presburg — Hun- 
garian Life — Characteristics of the River, 519 

CHAPTER LXVI. 

ATJSTRIA AND HUNGARY. 

Vienna — Dumb-Waiters — A Superb City — Garden Concerts — Pesth — Hun- 
garian Fairs — The Father of Roses, 525 

CHAPTER LXVII. 

DOWN IN THE WIELICZKE SALT MINES. 

Poland — Salt Mines — Down the Shaft — Salt Chambers — Rivers Under- 
ground — Crystal Salts — Getting Out Salt — Fairy Scenes — Infernal 
Lake — A Demon Chorus — QuaUty and Quantity of Salt — Extent of 
the Mines, 533 

CHAPTER LXVni. 

HOLLAND. 

A Land of Steady Habits — Singular Formation of the Soil — The Dykes — 
Struggle of the Dutch with the Spaniards and the Sea — Decline of the 
Little Kingdom — A Beautiful Promenade — An Unique Cathedral — 
A Country of Canals and Windmills — An All-Pervading Air of Indus- 
try and Thrift — A Surprised Angler — A Piscatorial Curiosity — The 
Native Cottages — The National Domesticity — The Garden-House — 
Its Situation and Semblance — Peculiarity of the Dutch Nose, - - 542 



CONTENTS. xxiij 

CHAPTER LXIX. 

AMSTERDAM. 

PAGB. 

A Very Active and Wealthy City— The Venice of the North — The Princi- 
pal Streets— The Style of Buildings— The Royal Palace— Eight-Gabled 
Inaccessible Churches — The Tomb of De Ruyter — A Diversified Theol- 
ogy—Valuable Paintings — Great Ship Canal — The Theaters — Diamond- 
Cutting — Ten Thousand Jews Employed in the Business — A Wealthy 
Banking Center — Hope & Co. — Costumes of the Provinces — Grotesque 
and Fantastic Attire — All the Houses Intoxicated — A Bewildered Amer- 
ican — A Very Narrow Hotel — Short Beds — The Possible Object of their 
Brevity — The Municipal Government, 550 

CHAPTER LXX. 

DUTCH CUSTOMS AND CHAKACTERISTICS. 

Dwellers on the Water — The Trekschuit — Families Afloat with Fowls, Hogs, 
and Cattle — Four Hundred Thousand Amphibious Hollanders — Plain 
Living and Steady Money-Sa\'ing — A Healthy, Comfortable, and Con- 
tented Nation — Walloons, Frisians, and Germans — Endless Sweeping, 
Dusting, Rubbing, and Scrubbing^The Dutch House- Wife — The Mania 
for External Cleanliness — Personal Neatness Rather Exceptional — Ec- 
centricities of Tidiness — Broek the Cleanest Town on the Globe — Dwell- 
ings too Nice to Enter with Shoes — Streets that Horses Must not In- 
vade — Zaandam — The Cottage of Peter the Great — " Nothing too Small 
for a Great Man," 559 

CHAPTER LXXI. 

DIFFERENT DUTCH CITIES. 

Haarlem — Its Renowned Siege by the Spaniards — A Great Market for Bulb- 
ous Roots — The Wild Tuhp Mania — High-Roofed Houses and Peaked 
Attic Windows — Ley den — The Siege of 1574 — Heroism Rewarded — 
The Hague — The Scene of Barneveldt's Execution — The Prison fi-om 
which the DeWitts were Dragged and Tom to Pieces — Delft — The Em- 
barkation of the Pilgrim Fathers — The Monument to the Murdered Wil- 
liam of Orange — The Ashes of Admiral Van Tromp — Rotterdam — Tu- 
multuous Scenes on the Exchange — Perpetual Moppers and Mer- 
schaum-Colorers — Much Commerce and More Quaintness, - - - 566 

CHAPTER LXXn. 

BELGIUM. 

Difference between the Dutch and the Belgians— The Soil and Resources of 
the Country — The City of Antwerp — Singular Manners of the People 
— The Crookedest of Towns — Not So Picturesque as Represented — Its 
Middle-Age Greatness — Magnificence of the Churches — Rubens' Pic- 
tures — The Zoological Gardens — Travel in the Kingdom — The Musical 
Festivals — Extraordinary Demonstrations — The Belgians as Noise- 
Makers — Dances in the Tavern Gardens — Liege — Its Manufactures and 
Smoky Atmosphere — Nineteenth Century Practicality, - - - 572 



xxiv CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER LXXIII. 

GHENT AND THE GANTOI3. 

PAGE. 

Why Americans Should Like Belgium — Situation and Singular Appearance 
of Ghent — Its Public Squares and Promenades — The Friday Market — 
Flemish Eccentricities — The Ecclesiastic Edifices — The Renowned Bel- 
fry — The Beguinage — The Matrimonial Society and its Results — Ex- 
tensive Manufactures — The City once Larger than Paris, - - - 580 

CHAPTER LXXIV. 

BRUGES AND BRUSSELS. 

The Fourteenth Century in the Nineteenth— The Celebrated Belfry— The 
Melody of its Chimes — How they are Played — Origin of the Name of 
Bruges — Its Fine Gothic Structures — The Cathedral of Notre Dame — 
Tomb of Charles the Bold — Curious Chimney Piece — A Genuine Mount 
of Piety — Order of the Golden Fleece— St. Ursula and her Eleven 
Thousand Virgins Once More — Deserted Monasteries — An Asylum of 
English Fugitive Kings — Brussels, a Paris in Miniature — The Feminine 
Passion for Lace — The Scene of Charles V.'s Abdication— The Manni- 
kin Fountain — Superstition Concerning It — The Battle and Field of 
Waterloo — Annoyance from Guides—End of the Pilgrimage, - - 585 



CHAPTER I. 




ON AND OVER SEA. 

^ NE of the advantages of travel is that our friends 
are never so agreeable as when we are going away 
from and coming back to them. Absence is tem- 
porary death ; and the possibility that it may be 
permanent makes us forget faults and remember 
virtues. The waves of the ocean wash away 
many unpleasant memories ; and at the distance 
of a thousand leagues we see what has been 
through the lens of the ideal. 

The steamer " Queen," of the National Line, on which 1 
sailed for Europe, proved what I had always believed, that sea^ 
sickness is not one of my possibilities. I had often been 
rocked on the cradle of the deep without the least discomfort ; 
but I had never crossed the Atlantic during what is known a& 
the stormy months. Perhaps the "Queen " is not a fair test, 
she is such an excellent ship, and seems so wholly in sympatli;^ 
with the sea. There were winds and waves and gales enough 
to make any one ill capable of illness ; but I had not the faint- 
est qualm from the hour we quitted the Hudson until we cast 
anchor in the Mersey. 

The " Queen " is one of the largest vessels afloat, and so 
convenient and well arranged, I do not wonder she is a favorite. 
All her sister ships, built by the Lairds, are on the same 
model, and have been very prosperous. They are particular- 
ly adapted to the carrying of emigrants (I have always felt an 
interest in their ocean passage), who, on account of the su- 
perior accommodations, seem to give the National Line the 
preference. 
2 



18 



FAIRLY EMBARKED. 



Our passage was interesting from its variety. It was not 
all calm, nor all storm, but a fair mixture of both. The first 
two days we had so little wind that it was monotonous. But 
on the third day the breeze freshened, and on the fourth rose 
to a gale. It was exhilarating to be on deck with the ship 
pitching and tossing under your feet; the waves breaking 
over her once in a while, and the spray dashing into your face 
from the white-crested surges on all sides. A good deal of 
rhetoric has no doubt been wasted in describing storms. The 




ALL SEKENE. 



waves are not mountain high — the highest rarely, if ever, ex- 
ceed forty feet — nor does the vast deep open like a yawning 
chasm. But still a stonn is very picturesque and enjoyable to 
any one who retains stomachic regularity, and relishes a con- 
flict of the elements. I felt a great satisfaction in standing on 
deck, hour after hour, watching the boiling waters, the dark, 
bending sky, and hearing the roaring wind, so fierce at times 
that I had to hold to the railings of the vessel to prevent being 
blown overboard. 

I had not a single qualm, nor would the wildest storm that 



EFFECT OF SEA-SICKNESS. 19 

ever raged give me one, I am confident. I have been thor- 
oughly tested by the ocean, and I have always refused to give 
up my resolution or my breakfast. 

Many persons dislike sea-voyages, though I am not of 
them. They complain of weariness, of monotony ; but the 
ocean and the sky, with a book and a cigar, are companions, if 
you have no others, though sympathetic society is not to be 
despised. Travelling alone is not agreeable when you travel 
far ; and he who can take a friend with him will discover his 
friend a blessing. Marmontel was right : " It is sad when we 
see any thing beautiful to have no one to whom we can say, 
' See how beautiful it is ! ' " 

Whist is a pleasant sea game. I have found it an excellent 
time-killer in Atlantic travels. Tour own and your antagon- 
ist's tricks get confused when the ship gives a lurch or a roll ; 
but that is remediable, and adds to the variety. 

I relish the feeling on the ocean, that when you leave the 
pier, you won't have to stop, or look after baggage for the next 
ten or twelve days ; that you are secure from the common an- 
noyances of travel for more than three thou"sand miles. 

A man who does not get sea-sick always has an opportun- 
ity on shipboard to gratify fhe element of original sin — the the- 
ologians say — we have in us. ' His superiority to the tortures of 
the ocean makes him seem superior to his fellows. The fancy is 
natural enough, considering that he can sit quietly down and 
eat his breakfast, while scores of poor fellows are lying below 
so disgusted with life that they are wholly indifferent whether 
the ship floats or founders. On the " Queen " we had some 
amusing instances of marine malady. 

One young man was very eloquent upon the ocean, as we 
were steering down the bay. He quoted all the hackneyed 
songs and stanzas of Byron in praise of the sea ; wondered 
how any one could weary of its beauty and its grandeur. The 
first, two days were very calm, but on the third it began to 
blow. The enthusiast disappeared from the deck, and I did 
not meet him again until we were running up the Channel. 
Then he crawled into the saloon, pale as a ghost. I inquired 



20 SIGHTS IN LIVERPOOL. 

after liis condition, and as he had bored me with quotations 
(one of the blessings of Eden was that Eve couldn't quote), I 
asked how he enjoyed the sea. He steadied himself to give 
energetic energy to his utterance, and ejaculated sepulchrally, 
" Oh, the sea ! The people who are fools enough to like it 
ought to be drowned in it." 

A change had evidently come over the spirit of his dream. 

A young couple, just married, had chosen Europe for a 
bridal tour. They were very affectionate and devoted for a 
little while ; but the first strong breeze blew all love and sym- 
pathy out of them. I observed them when the vessel first be- 
gan to roll. They were leaning fondly against each other as 
the ship lurched. That lurch made them mutually hateful. 
They glared on one another like deadly foes ; then they 
groaned, and did the very opposite of what was poetic. They 
parted. They crept below by different stairways, and when 
they rallied enough — a week after — to reappear, they were 
Separated physically, if not spiritually. Each seemed to regard 
the other as the source of his or her suffering. Their passion- 
ate attachment was extinguished, at least for the time. They 
were changed by their sea-sickness as years of land-living 
would not have changed them. 

Let no man who seeks to cultivate the sentimental ameni- 
ties with a woman take her to sea. The ocean is very fine in 
the abstract ; but in the concrete it is as death to love. 

The first impression of an American on entering England 
is the substantiality of everything. Our trans- Atlantic cousins, 
as the London Times calls us, when it wants to be patronizing, 
are not graceful nor artistic nor picturesque ; but they are sohd, 
which we are not. How strikingly the docks of Liverpool im- 
press a 'New Yorker ! They are of sohd masonry, cost mil- 
lions of pounds, and will last for ages ; while those of Manhat- 
tan are wretched wooden affairs, that are a shame to the city. 
The public buildings, the warehouses, the paving of the streets, 
the drays, the carts, and the horses, look as if they were, in- 
deed, intended to last. Such long-limbed, massive quad- 
rupeds, such broad- wheeled vehicles, we never see in our coun- 



THE COMPTON HOUSE. 21 

try. They seem primitive, almost grotesque, compared to our 
slight animals and wagons ; but they excellently serve the 
purpose for which they were designed. 

All the buildings are dingy and grim from the moist char- 
acter of the climate and the quantity of soft coal they burn ; 
but the principal streets are quite clean. 

One of the lions of Liverpool is the Compton House — not 
a hotel, as might be supposed, but a variety store on a very ex- 
tensive scale. It is one of the largest and most prominent 
buildings in town, and seems more Yankee than British. The 
proprietors sell dry goods, millinery, crockery, glass ware, 
clothing, furniture, hardware, marine outfits, musical instru- 
ments, and almost everything but locomotives and tombstones. 
If they have not the last, they have cofiins, both ready-made 
and made to order ; so that anything, from an infant's robe to 
a w^ooden overcoat, as they used to call it in the army, can be 
supplied at the Compton. I should think it would require a 
large degree of versatility to conduct so varied a trade, and 
that the strict attention it demanded would render a man 
fickle-minded. Almost any American would predict failure 
for such a peculiar business; but the present firm instituted 
the establishment, and have never been in any financial difii- 
culty. And that, too, though they have been burned out 
once or twice, which, speaking from a Kew York standpoint, 
might account for their prosperity. 

I never knew until recently the origin of the word Liver- 
pool. It is taken from the word liver, a fabulous bird of the 
crane species, supposed to have inliabited the vast pool w^iich 
once covered the site of the present city. This mythical bird 
is the central figure in the coat of arms of Liverpool. All the 
ground on which the town stands is made, and over it, in years 
agone, flowed the sea. 

Except in business, Liverpool is a dull place. Commerce 
crowds out science, literature, and art, which London monop- 
olizes. With a population of over five hundred thousand, 
Liverpool has not a library, a gallery, or a theatre worthy of 
the name. Every dramatic manager fails eventually. 



22 



QUICK SHAVING. 



Tlie city lias few handsome private residences, as most of 
the prosperous citizens live out of town. Great fortunes have 
been amassed there, some of the merchant princes being worth 
$10,000,000 to $12,000,000 each. Fortunes, varying from 
$1,000,000 to $3,000,000 are quite common. Business is reg- 
ulated very much as in Kew York ; a business day embracing 
but four or five hours. You can find no one before ten o'clock, 
and seldom after four. About the latter hour the merchants 
go to their homes, which lie along the different railways. The 
grounds of many of the houses are beautifully laid out, though 
they suffer, as English grounds usually do, from over-regularity 
and stiflness. 

Shaving is still quite primitive in England, for the reason 
that most Englishmen are in the habit of shaving themselves. 




SHAVED IN TWO MINUTES. 



In some of the towns the barbers charge only a .penny, but 
they merely rasp the chin, and then release their victim ; not 
even washing: off the lather. I was directed to a tonsorial 



CUSTOM-HOUSE OFFICERS. 23 

artist who solicited American patronage, and who enjoyed a 
reputation. I found his shop exceedingly plain, with few con- 
veniences and no luxuries. The chairs were common chairs, 
with a small head-piece. I sat down, and the razor was jerked 
across my face, being wiped at every jerk. There was none 
of the careful or artistic manipulation for which our barbers 
are famed. The job was finished in two minutes; but I re- 
membered it two months. 

It is often remarked by traveUers that the Custom-house 
officers in Em-ope form a marked contrast to those in America. 
The officers on this side are much more expeditious and 
obliging than ours. They show no such disposition to detain 
or annoy you. K they have no reason to suspect contraband 
goods, they pass baggage without inspecting it or pulHng it to 
pieces. They are mortal, of course. The British officials like 
to have their palms crossed with silver, and if you fail to re- 
member their weakness, inform you of it by word of mouth. 
" Price of a pot of beer, sir," they say, and hold out their hand 
to facilitate the exchange of small coins. Several Englishmen 
have assured me no Custom-house officer in Great Britain can 
be bribed ; but he certainly likes to see the courtesies of the 
occasion properly observed. 




CHAPTER II. 



LONDON. 




STRANGER, or foreigner, going to England 
now is likely to infer that the principal branch 
of retail trade is in matches. The streets of 
London are full of match-venders, mostly children 
from six to twelve years of age. They offer you 
matches everywhere, and with a perseverance and 
energy that encourage the belief that their salva- 
tion depends upon their selling a certain number. 
You are forced to doubt if the matches they offer so super- 
abundantly are made in heaven. You question if enough 
people have gone there to make so many. The cause of the 
activity in the match market is that it is an excuse for beggary. 
The English cities, especially London, became so overrun with 
professional mendicants that an effort was made to suppress 
them. The police received orders to arrest all beggars. Of 
course, the beggars found a subterfuge. They embraced a 
legitimate business — selling matches. They invest a penny in 
matches, run after you, and beg most piteously. They seem 
so forlorn, and are so pertinacious that strangers give them 
money either out of pity or for convenience. Americans are 
of course the first choice of beggars, for most Em*opeans be- 
lieve we are all rich, and anxious to get rid of our money as 
soon as possible. A wretched-looking girl, of eight or nine, 
came up to me, holding out a box of matches, making her ap- 
peal so adroitly that I gave her sixpence for her art. 

" Thank you," she said ; " thank you, Mr. American." 
" How do you know I am an American, my child ? " 



" rirrixG " universal. 



25 



" Oh, because you gives me silver ; our people never gives 
us nothink but pennies." 

The extent of " tipping," as it is styled, is remarkable in 
Britain. We should call it " feeing," and more candid per- 
sons would name it " bi'ibing." We are in the habit of pay- 
ing porters, servants, and all kinds of menials for any particu- 
lar attention or service rendered; but we are very careful 
about giving money to those we regard or who regard them- 
selves as our social equals. The line is closely drawn on this 
side of the Atlantic, and we never cross it with douceurs. 
Over there it is quite different. You hardly meet any one 
you cannot make happy with anything between a shilling and 
a sovereign. Even 
pennies are not re- 
fused by well- 
dressed men, or six- 
pences by w e 1 1 - 
dressed women. The 
smallest courtesy or 
the largest kindness 
is gladly rendered 
you under the im- 
pression that you 
will pay for it. You 
drop your cane : it 
is picked up at once, 
and you part with a 
penny. A stamp is 
put on your letter; 
a glass of water is 
handed you ; the 

TIPPING. 

morning paper is 

shoved toward you, and you pay for the convenience. A 

woman buttons your glove, or takes a hair from your coat 

(even if it be her own), and you make pecuniary compensation 

therefor. 

In America we do many things gratis. In England, or in 




26 



COST OF LIVING IN ENGLAND. 



Europe, for matter of that, they do nothing on such terms. 
Little gratuities in London will cost a stranger from two to ten 
shillings a day ; and if he wants any real favors, he must draw 
on his sovereigns. 

I have been embarrassed sometimes concerning the extent 
to which, and concerning the kind of people, one may " tip." 
But I have learned that in most cases hesitation is superfluous. 
A New Yorker, as the story goes, boarded in the house of 
a friend, in London, for some months. When about to leave 
for the Continent, and bid adieu to his friend's wife, she kissed 
him good-by. The New Yorker, not anticipating so warm a 
greeting, and deeming it a special favor — for the woman was 

pretty — slipped a sovereign in- 
to her hand, and went off. 

We hear a great deal about 
the cheapness of living in Eu- 
rope ; but it is not true for 
travellers in Great Britain. 
The hotels in London are quite 
as expensive as in America, 
considering the accommoda- 
tions. The English houses are 
generally inferior to ours, in 
size and comfort, and in the 
quality of the table. What a 
New York, or Boston, or Chi- 
cago hotel furnishes, would cost in London fully ten dollars a 
day. As it is, you cannot live in what is considered there a 
first-class hotel for less than five dollars in currency, and if you 
are fastidious or dainty, it will be much more. You cannot 
get the plainest breakfast for less than three shillings, and a 
tolerable dinner will be five or six shillings. Then you have 
sei-vice charged in the bill at one to two shillings a day, and 
are expected to pay the servants besides. 

The Europeans live much more economically than we do. 
They care vastly more about money, in the first place, and 
secondly, they better understand its judicious use. All manu- 




GOOD FOR A SOVEREIGN. 



THE ^'BOBBIES.'''' 21 

factured articles are cheaper in Britain and on the Continent ; 
are well made, and of good material. The expense of boots, 
clothes, and hats, for instance, is not mnch more than fifty or 
sixty per cent, of what it is in the United States. The average 
Englishman wears a coat or hat for several years, while we 
think a few months quite sufficient. 

The policemen look awkward enough in their peculiar uni- 
form, which is a short, stiff, square-cut, blue coat, that would 
give an unprepossessing appearance to Antinous. On their 
heads they wear a cloth helmet, with a small crest, intended 
to break the blow of any club or missile. This gives them a 
ridiculous appearance, and with their other garments, insures 
them the name of " bobbies." How the government can ex- 
pect the majesty of the law to be sustained by the " bobbies " 
I can't imderstand. They are too funny to command respect. 
I should as soon expect to disperse a mob by reading a hu- 
morous lecture instead of the Kiot Act. 

The speed of the English train is exaggerated. They go 
much faster than ours ; but even the express rarely averages 
more than forty miles an hour. When behind time, it runs 
as high as fifty or sixty, but only for short distances. The fare 
is about five cents a mile for first-class, four cents for second- 
class, and less than three cents for third-class, while with us 
it averages about three cents per mile. The rate varies little 
whether the distance be short or long, and the .advantage of 
buying through tickets at reduced prices, as with us, is not to 
be had. 

An American is struck with the superior construction of 
the railways. They all have double tracks, and their bridges, 
tunnels, embankments, and elevations are of the most substan- 
tial sort. No common road is allowed to cross the track, ex- 
cept over a bridge or by a tunnel. The telegraph lines and 
signal stations are excellent, and kept in perfect order. Seri- 
ous accidents seldom occur, and only from gross carelessness. 

The theatres in London are, on the whole, inferior to the 
theatres of New York, both in the quality of the houses (ex- 
ternally and internally,) and of the performance. The Covent 



28 



THEATRES IN LONDON. 



Garden is a large, gloomy building, not at all attractive within, 
and the Italian operas are not given in the style that might be 
naturally expected ; nor are they mounted as they ought, in 
what the English claim to be the first of the European lyric 
theatres. 




THIRD-CLASS RAILWAY CARRIAGE. 



Drury Lane (recently rearranged and improved), the Prince 
of Wales's (the Wallack's of London), Hay market, and Gayety 
Theatres are the best in the metropolis. The Adelphi, Strand, 
Holborn, Lyceum, and minor theatres, have little to boast of, 
and some of them are dingy and dreary enough. 

A theatre of the old time, and one rarely visited now-a- 
days by strangers, is Sadler's Wells, in a quarter of the town 
where no one would imagine a place of amusement to be. 
Having attended all the fashionable play-houses, I fancied an 
excursion to Sadler's Wells niiglit be entertaining. Phelps, 



AN UNWELCOME SUBSTITUTE. 29 

" the eminent tragedian," was perfonning a round of favorite 
characters, and his E-ichelieu was so bad I felt a strong curios- 
ity to see if he could do anything worse. I attended a second 
time, when the manager, with soiled hands and limping Eng- 
lish, appeared before the curtain to state that Phelps was too 
hoarse to play, and that his son would take his part. It re- 
quired fully ten mimites to communicate so much as that, for 
the audience cheered, hooted, and yelled so as to drown the 
fellow's voice at every half sentence. 

The curtain rose, and young Phelps strode upon the stage 
as Bertuccio in the " Fool's Revenge." But he could not 
make himself heard. The uproar continued for fifteen min- 
utes. At last he succeeded in informing the house that he 
would not attempt the character if they did not wish it. Cries 
of " Go on, go on," and " Go off, go off," with applause, hisses, 
and confiision worse confounded. The actor could not again 
lift his voice above the din, and finally quitted the stage in 
despair. 

Then the manager reappeared and began a series of em- 
phatic gestures, putting his hand on his heart, and swinging 
his arms in a manner that indicated he was making a speech. 
It was all dumb show amid the tumult. I grew weary of the 
place, and concluding I had had my three shillings' worth of 
legitimate drama, quitted the theatre. What became of the 
manager or the audience, I do not know. 

As I went out of the dingy old building, with its crooked 
entrances, its queer arcade, its seedy ticket-sellers, and heard 
women in draggled skirts swearing over their disappointment, 
and saw tipsy rogues standing in the rain (it always rains in 
London) waiting to rob-somebody tipsier than they, I thought 
how thoroughly Sadler's. "Wells represented the theatre of the 
past, and that quarter of the city the London of the present. 

Phelps certainly represents the past. Twenty-five years 
ago he Avas thought one of the best of living tragedians, for he 
had a powerfid voice, and could rant like King Cambyses. He 
stood at the head of his profession ; but the natural school of 
acting came in, and left his strut-and-thunder style out of fash- 



LONDON CABMEN. 



ion. He could not change ; lie did not wisli to. He declared 
tlie times unjointed, and the generation nnappreciative. He 
grew morbid and bitter ; lie could not get engagements where 
once he would have refused to play. When I last saw him he 
was obliged to seek the provinces. Poor, old, broken, misan- 
thropic, he was filling at the Wells his final engagement in the 
metropolis. 

There are two kinds of cabs in England, the Hansom, 
a two-wheeled vehicle, and a four-wheeler, built like an Amer- 




A " HANSOM " CAB^ 



ican coupe or brougham. English cabmen are like their tribe 
the world over. They will cheat you if they can. They are 
•not so bad as the Celtic Jehus in New York — they could not 
be if they tried — ^but they overcharge whenever they think 
they can with safety. Their regular fare is sixpence per mile 
for a Hansom, and one shilling for a four-wheeler ; but they 
always ask a stranger twice as much, presuming he Avon't 



THE GREAT CITY. 31 

know the distance he has been driven, "When he hands them 
the proper amount, however, and lets them see he understands 
the situation, they accept the fare with a tolerable degree of 
resignation. They do not swear and insult, and threaten him 
as they do in our blessed land of freedom, until nothing but 
self-discipline and the high price of funerals prevent him from 
indulging in the luxmy of a justifiable homicide. 

To one not a native of London, the famous labyrinth of 
Crete seems to have been recreated along the Thames. Such a 
wilderness of streets, lanes, inns, courts, and alleys, was never 
before known in Christendom. There is no clue to any given 
locality. You must depend entirely on your instincts or a cab- 
man ; and the latter, on the whole, is to be preferred. 

A street has one name in one block, another in a second, 
and still another in a third. On the west side of a thorough- 
fare the street is King ; on the east. Queen ; on the north. 
Bread ; on the south, Milk ; on the right. Black ; on the left, 
White; and so on without end. 

There is some mental connection between such nomenclat- 
nre, but in most of that prevailing there, there is no suggestion 
of fitness or coherence. A triangle is called a square, a square 
IS called fields, a rambling block a circus, a dark comer an inn, 
and a blind alley a crescent. 

To show the irregularity of London, let me take one of 
the best-known routes between down-town and the western 
quarter. Beginning at the Bank of England with Threadnee- 
dle street, where there is a chaos of thoroughfares, and going 
toward Trafalgar square as directly as you can, you pass 
through Poultry, Cheapside, St. Paul's Churchyard, Ludgate 
Hill, Fleet street. Temple Bar, the Strand, and Charing Cross, 
and yet you have nothing to inform you where you are. Few 
of the streets are indicated by their names. Those which are, 
are so insignificant that no one cares to know them. The 
lamp-posts have no directions whatever ; so, after dark, you are 
wholly at a loss. 

The Directory, though an immense volume, is so like a 
Chinese puzzle that it rather conceals than conveys intelligence. 



32 A NEW YORKER PUZZLED. 

The location of a house or the address of a business firm is 
given simply as Oxford street, Bloomsbury, White Friars, or 
Covent Garden, with a number of such cabalistic initials as W. 
C, E. C, W. or C, which are simply confounding to the 
stranger. The letters mean "West Central, East Central, "West 
or Central, as respects the quarter of London. In the Direc- 
tory you constantly find " City" in parentheses, and marvel at 
it until you learn that it means the part of town east of Tem- 
ple Bar, though London extends miles and miles west of the 
Bar. 

It is a curious fact that a century ago the Mayor of Lon- 
don, in one of those spasms of ferocious morality to which the 
British public is periodically subject, complained of the wick- 
edness of theatres, and demanded they should be suppressed in 
the city. They were suppressed, and since then, though the 
feeling and restriction have passed, no theatre has been built 
in the so-called city limits. 

The tangle of dingy alleys in which the Times office stands 
is a good illustration of the topography of London. I defy 
any one to stumble on it in fifty years, unless he makes a direct 
and persistent eifort in its quest. Fleet street is the street for 
daily newspapers ; and you read on flaring signs the names of 
all the prominent journals in front of the offices as you pass, 
the name of the Thunderer excepted. You wonder where it 
is, and you might wonder until doomsday if you were not in- 
structed to look out for Pilgrim street — a narrow alley — down 
which you thread your way into Broadway, E. C. (a miserable 
lane, that makes a New Yorker indignant to look at), and 
finally chase into a corner, a dwarfish-looking, begrimed build- 
ing, on which are the letters, " The Times Publishing Office." 
It is difficult to avoid disappointment in St. Paul's Cathe- 
dral. It is vast and gloomy enough, and has been sufficiently 
expensive ; but architecturally it is unsatisfactory. The dome 
is admirable, but its sculptures and ornamentations are inferior. 
It is a great pile of monetary wastefulness, but very interest- 
ing from its historic associations. Interiorly it is worse than 
outwardly. It is unfinished, like the Continental cathedrals, 



ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL. 



33 



and, like them, invites in permanent placards the public to 
contribute to its completion. Service is held in the eastern 
end, and the remaining part of the interior is emptiness. But 
the whole is so cold and dreary, even ghostly in appearance, 
that I should think every religious emotion and aspiration 




ST. PAUL 3 CATHEDr.AL. 



would be extinguished therein. In the church during service 
I seemed to have walked into a living tomb. The faith must 
be earnest and the soul aflame that can worship in such a 
freezing temple. 

To ascend to the dome and climb into the ball, four hun- 
dred feet high, is quite the proper thing. The way is long, 
tedious, and very dirty ; but if you are strong of limb and 
careless of soil, you will find the three or four shillings invested 
in the enterprise repaid, should the day prove clear, by an ex- 
cellent view of London and all the surrounding country, with 
the enjoyment of a wind that threatens to blow off your hair. 
3 



34 COFFEE-ROOMS. 

The coffee-room is one of the marked featm-es of every 
British hotel, and is mentioned in glowing terms by all the 
English as a synonym of sociability and comfort. My expe- 
rience has not led me to form a very favorable opinion of the 
coffee-room ; called so, perhaps, because coffee is almost the 
only thing not drank in it. 

The coffee-room is generally a large room in the hotel 
where visitors sit, talk, read the papers, and (particularly) 
drinlv. The talking is usually slow, but the drinking is very 
fast, and has always seemed to me the sole object of the convo- 
cation. 

One certainly hears there conversation as fully divested of 
intellectuality as any he has ever listened to among men claim- 
ing to be intelligent. The English, as a people, rarely deal 
with ideas. They delight in facts, and prosaic facts, too. 
When they fail to talk of business, which they do five times as 
much as I have ever known Americans to do, they speak of . 
how much it cost them to make the journe}^ to the city ; tell 
what they have had for dinner, and intend to have for break- 
fast ; or discuss, with their peculiar intonation, some question 
we should deem unworthy of a thought. 

I could not help comparing the English with the American 
style of conversation, and greatly to the disadvantage of the 
former. "We, as a people, have much more humor, wit, fancy, 
readiness, and fluency than they. 

In spite of the efforts to suppress professional mendicancy 
in London, there is a superabundance of beggars, especially in 
the West End, where the wealthy residents live. Ladies are 
often deterred from walking out there on account of the hordes 
that beset them. They are afraid to refuse the petitions, and 
also afraid to put their hands into their purses, lest they be in- 
sulted in the first case, and robbed in the second. 

Wretched-looking women with babies in their arms haunt 
the popular quarters, and offer faded bouquets and other 
worthless wares as a pretext for soliciting charity. They are 
liable to arrest for begging, and, though seldom arrested, they 
like to make a show of selling something. Nearly all the 



ENGLISH GROGGERIES. 



35 



beggars are natives — unlike ours, who are all foreigners. The 
people there, however, have more reason to beg — for they are 
poor enough — but nearly all of them are imposters and pro- 
fessionals. ., 

Billingsgate, clown by the Tower way, is not very unlike 
what it was in Dr. Johnson's time. The fishmongers, male 
and female, keep up a hid- 
eous bawling, and the lat- 
ter make more noise than 
the former. Their chaffing 
is so energetic that I have 
listened by the half hour 
to their peculiar raillery. 
Those fish-wives have noth- 
ing feminine in their ap- 
pearance, manner, or con- 
versation ; but I hear they 
often do kind and womanly 
acts. I hope they do ; for 
while I watched and lis- 
tened to them, they seemed 
of the epicene gender, without the virtues of either men or 
women, and the faults of both. It is very unsafe to speak to 
them in jest ; for they have a stream of foul words they are 
only too glad to turn upon any one, be he prince, peddler, or 
poet. 

On every street, in every block, you see the bar-room, 
which varies from the low doggery in the dark court to the 
gilded gin palace at the crowded corner. The number of 
houses where malt and spirituous liquors are sold is over eight 
thousand, about one for every five hundred inhabitants. No 
doubt the English drink more than any nation in the world. 
They are reared to beer, wine^ and liquor, and they do no in- 
justice to their trainings. Liberal potations injure man less 
in this climate than they do elsewhere ; indeed, some physi- 
cians hold that strict temperance is unwholesome, though such 
medical opinions may be influenced by personal habits. 




STBEET BEGGAR. 



36 



FLEET STREET. 



Women drink as well as men. Yon see women standing 
among men in the gin shops, both bj day and bj night, and 
they^are constantly going in and out with bottles, and pitchers, 
and jugs, seeking or carrying away the fiery poison. A very 
c<nnmon spectacle is that of women staggering through the 




A FLEET STREET GKOGGEET. 



streets, blaspheming and screaming like any masculine row- 
dies. It frequently happens, I understand, that as many as 
fifty or a hundred are arrested a day for bestial drunkenness. 

The grog shops have dififerent entrances, marked private 
and general. Into the former go the better* and more prosper- 



REARED TO THE BOTTLE. 37 

ous tipplers ; into the latter, the poorer and more depraved. 
Thej both travel the same road, but by difierent gates. Some 
of the rum-holes have three doors to perdition. The best 
liquor is sold at the first door, the medium at the second, and 
the common sweepings, and rinsings, and slops at the third. 
Women and children, not over nine and ten years of age, are 
often patrons of the third-class. I can think of few sadder 
sights than Fleet street and the Strand, hourly, yea, moment- 
arily, witness of that kind. 

Wherever I have been in England I have been pained by 
the prevalence of intemperance ; intemperance in its most re- 
pulsive form ; intemperance among young and old ; intemper- 
ance among laborers and mechanics whose scanty wages make 
improvidence a crime ; intemperance — worst of all — among 
women. 

Our .drinking places are holy chapels compared to the pub- 
lic-houses there, which resemble pens for swine more than re- 
sorts for human beings. They are often tawdrily painted and 
gilded; but the counters are small and narrow, and the en- 
trances only large enough to admit three or four drinkers at a 
time. Ordinary customers are brutally served — treated like 
the degraded beings they are by persons far worse than them- 
selves. 

■ Persons rarely get roaring drunk as with us, but that is 
because they have more phlegm and stolidity than we, not be- 
cause they do not drink enough. Their naturally sound con- 
stitutions and sluggish temperament prove their bane, since 
they are prevented from seeing their danger or feeling their 
excess. They do not very often die of delirium tremens, but 
they get so thoroughly soaked with liquors that it enters into 
all their functions, and gives rise to countless diseases. 

The boasted health and ruddiness of the English is more in 
appearance than in fact. There are countless invalids among 
them, as you see by travelling on the Continent, particularly at 
the spas ; and they often become infirm through overfondness 
for drink. In our Gpuntry tippling is followed by few ; but in 
Britain, as I have said, everybody takes his bottle of sherry or 



38 " TmnrERSALITT OF DISSFPATION,''^ 

port, and generally his whisky, gin, or brandy, as regularly as 
he takes his dinner. The English are reared to the bottle, if 
not on it. The sole difference between the poor and the rich 
man is, the former swallows worse liquor than the latter, and 
finds a graveyard sooner. Looking at Cruikshank's picture, 
representing the " Universality of DissijDation," at the Kensing- 
ton Museum, it seemed to me truer now than ever. 

The picture represents how all classes of society are affected 
by strong drink \ how the man of fashion and position falls in 
time into the same degradation with the ignorant boor and the 
common sot. The modish and elegant wine-bibbing at dinners 
and j)arties is shown to be the beginning of many a noble 
nature's ruin. Every grade of intemperance, from the highest 
to the lowest, is traced downward, slowly but steadily and 
surely. The lady of rank is drawn sipping her cordial daintily ; 
the ambitious politician entertaining his constituents with 
claret ; the proud peer extending graceful hospitality ; the 
merchant taking his glass of punch after dinner ; the lover 
draining a glass of champagne to his mistress' beauty ; the 
clerk swallowing his single pot of beer ; the unfortunate me- 
chanic pausing on his homeward way for a trifle of gin ; the 
miserable wretch thrust into the street because he is too poor 
to buy decent treatment ; the man who was once in the pulj>it, 
loved and lauded, converted into an outcast and a thief by his 
thirst for liquor ; the father of an affectionate family brought 
to the prison and the gallows by the demon of drink. And 
so, on and on, and on — down, down, down from the first flush 
of pleasure and excitement to the lowest pit of woe and 
despair. 



CHAPTER III. 



8PUEGE0N. 




^ROFITING- by a leisure Sunday in London, I 
went to the Tabernacle to hear Spurgeon, whose 
reputation is increasing steadily and whose in- 
fluence is greater to-day than ever. The Taber- 
nacle is on the north side of the Thames, near the 
famous " Elephant and Castle," about a mile dis- 
tant from St. Paul's, in a densely crowded and en- 
tirely democratic portion of the city. The church 
(Baptist) is very large, and has two galleries with six rows of 
seats extending in the form of an ellipse all around the liouse, 
giving it much the appearance of a theatre. It will seat six 
or seven thousand persons, and would be filled, if its capacity 
were twice as great. 

It is the custom to admit all the pew-owners, friends of 
members, and those who have purchased tickets of admission 
(they are sold for a shilling, and regularly advertised in the 
Times) before the hour of service. The favored ones are in- 
troduced by side-entrances, and the great public kept out until 
the first hymn is read, which is at eleven o'clock. 

I took a cab and rode over to the Tabernacle at about half- 
past ten. Then the steps were so crowded I could not get 
within forty feet of the front door. As it was too late to pur- 
chase tickets (they are purchased of the trustees, I have under- 
stood), I was obliged to practise the Christian virtue, patience, 
and wait until the sexton saw fit to open the doors for the 
multitude, of whom I was on that occasion one. 

Precisely at eleven the crowd moved inward, and I with 



40 



SFUffGHON^S TABERNACLE. 



it. I was in the first gallery in less than two minutes, and 
almost every place was occupied, from the pews on the main 
floor to the tiers under the roof. I found a vacant back seat 
nearly in front of the pulpit, by the window, and got into it 
at once. 

Spurgeon was then reading the hymn, stanza by stanza, in 
rather a monotonous and declamatory manner, in a strong 
though not rich voice, which could be heard over the whole of 
the vast assembly. I was as far off as any one in the congre- 
gation ; and I did not, I think, miss a syllable. 

I could see the man plainly. There is nothing clerical, as 
the word is commonly understood, in his appearance. He is 
large limbed, about five feet ten or twelve inches high, and 
full enough to be considered corpulent. He has a florid com- 
plexion, a full, broad face, is rather square at the forehead, 
with black hair, heavy chin and jaw, not relieved by half-cut 

whiskers, dark as his 
locks. His eyes, which 
I should take to be 
gray, are capable of 
great variety of expres- 
sion. His nose is broad, 
heavy, disproportion- 
ately short, and in- 
clined to turn up at 
the end. He wore the 
customary suit of 
black and the indis- 
pensable white cravat. 
He looks in no wise 
a man of genius, or 
even of marked indi- 
viduality, though he 
shows strength and 
-decision of character with superabundance of physicality. 

The entire congregation sang the hymn ; the clergyman 
taking part with the rest and- standing in the pulpit the while. 




SPURGEON. 



HIS STYLE OF FBEACHINO, 41 

The effect of so many voices, many of them rich and sweet, 
though uncultivated, was rather impressive. At the close of 
the hymn, Spurgeon offered a prayer, which was given in the 
tone and manner of a sermon. Indeed, I thought it a sermon, 
until he concluded with the usual form of amen. He peti- 
tioned Heaven for a revival of vital Christianity, of practical 
charity, of earnest work ; for the blessing of the nation, its 
redemption from foreign influences, from Popery and Ritual- 
ism — which is the same thing (I quote him exactly here) — and 
the return of a simple and sacred faith. 

His sermon, nearly an hour long, was in the same key. It 
was not at all doctrinal. He declared that religion should 
come from and touch the heart.; that Christians should be 
humble, and gentle, and tender, as Jesus was; that they 
should struggle, and agonize, and weep — the more tears the 
better — and strive to lift themselves above the sordid cares and 
selfish anxieties of the world. God did not want those who 
could be for a moment without Him. Every true Christian 
must aspire ; must recall what the Saviour had suffered, what 
the martyrs had endured. A preacher of the Gospel must be 
chosen of God. No one should be a minister who could resist 
being sucli ; for he who could resist had no vocation for the 
sacred office. The ordinary Christianity of the day was not 
what was wanted. It was cold, empty, a thing of form. We 
needed warm, earnest, devoted, absorbing work, free from all 
compromise with sin, the flesh, and the devil. 

Spurgeon was not eloquent in a single passage ; but he held 
his hearers to the end. JSTot one person, so far as I .could ob- 
serve, went out until he had concluded ; and the church was 
very uncomfortable from the crowd and the heat. He does 
not impress me as a man of rare gifts or even of extraordinary 
talent. He does not shine in logic, nor glow in rhetoric. He 
is fervid without color, and earnest without passion. 

Where, then, is the secret of his power — for power he cer- 
tainly has — with the English people ? It is in his sympathy 
with humanity, his understanding of the popular heart, his de- 
parture from mere dogma and creed, and his unlikeness to the 
cold formalism of the EstabHshed Church. 



^2 TITE B EEC HER OF BRITAIN: 

In America, in France, in Germany, he would produce no 
sensation ; would have obtained little reputation. But in Eng- 
land circumstances favor him ; and he is doing, no doubt, an 
excellent work. His hearers and admirers are from the com- 
mon walks of life— intelligent, but not cultivated, persons, I 
who care little for caste, whose tendencies and instincts are 
democratic. I 

Spurgeon is the strongest foe Eitualism has in the British 
pulpit. He is earnest and resolute, and draws the crowd as no 
other man on that island does, or can. He has been called the 
Beecher of Britain. He is little like Beecher has not his 
genius, his culture, his spontaneity, his magnetism. He is far 
inferior mentally to the pastor of Plymouth Church ; but he 
resembles the American in his earnestness, his liberality, hisl 
anxiety to do good. M 




'^';tj'i „ ' 




CHAPTER TV. 

THE GREAT CITY. 

'HE British metropolis is less unpleasant than is 
usually supposed. Most tourists go there and 
behold the entire city wrapped in fog and mist 
and smoke, out of which descends a constant shower 
of soot and dirt, alternating with a drizzling and irri- 
tating rain. Umbrellas and soiled linen, and ruffled 
temper are inseparable companions, especially with 
strangers in London, nine months out of twelve. Consequent- 
ly after waiting, day after day, for clear weather, and petition- 
ing heaven in vain for enough of blue sky to make a violet of, 
and after seeing nothing but miles of crooked and narrow 
streets, full of begrimed and unhandsome houses, tourists lose 
patience, despair of England, rush over to France, glorify Paris, 
and execrate London for all time to come. They have no idea 
there are any pleasant spots or green places in London. They 
hardly go beyond Trafalgar square. Its bronze lions seem to 
hold them at bay in Charing Cross. If they would penetrate 
to the quarter about Hyde or Regent's Park, or over to St. 
James's, or to Belgravia, or to Tyburnia, or to E'otting Hill, 
or Bayswater, and the weather should favor them, they would 
see th>.t the great city has her elegant quarters, her fair gardens, 
her pleasant breathing places, like other European capitals. 

The localities I have named look so unlike the East End, 
given over to business, the docks, and the toiling and suffering 
poor, so unlike even the Surrey side of the Thames, that one 
can hardly believe them part of London. But even the "West 
End brightness is not without its shadows, when you think of 



44 



PROMINENT JOURNALS. 



the extreme indigence and privation of the residents of Black- 
^vall, of the alleys, corners, and lanes where thousands and tens 
of thousands starve and sin that the few privileged ones may 
lie in purple, and drink the nectar which gilded injustice distils. 
The London newspapers advertise themselves in the most 
flaring style. On all the board-fences and dead-walls you see 
immense posters about the Telegraph having the greatest cir- 
culation in the world ; the Standard being the largest paper ; 
the NeiDs the most readable, etc. The omnibuses, by huge 




BATHING AT HTDE PAEK. 



signs upon the top, convey the same kind of intelhgence ; and, 
indeed, the whole city is filled with this journalistic advertising. 
The Times continues, of course, extremely prosperous, and 
does not thrust its excellence into the public eyes from street 
corners, like many of its contemporaries. It has less influence 
than it once had, and the Telegraph, News, and PaU Mall 
Gazette have interfered with its profits, but not materially. 
Of the dailies in London, the four named are the most money- 



THE THUNDERER. 



45 



making journals ; — a number of tliem barely making tlieir ex- 
penses. 

The Times^ jou know, changes its course suddenly, when 
it so chooses, without giving any reason therefor, Monday's 
issue supports a certain policy which it has advocated for 
months. Tuesday morning it appears with an entirely dif- 
ferent policy, and never a syllable as to the change. This has 
so often happened that the public has ceased to wonder at the 
revolutions of the Thunderer. One good thing in the Times 




DELIVERING THE "TIMES.' 



is that when it alters its views on a certain question, it dismisses 
the writers who have been supporters of the old views, and 
employs new writers for the new views. Unlike our journals, 
it does not supply itself with elastic scribblers, who can write 
any question up or down — contradict and abuse to-day what 
they uttered yesterday as deliberate convictions. 

The Times is very anxious to conceal the names of its ed- 
itorial contributors, and when they become known, whether by 
accident or design, it often dispenses with their services, and 



46 NOTED GARDENS. 

never engages them again. The journal is owned by several 
wealthy men, the largest owner being Mr. Walters, formerly 
member of Parliament. The course of the Times has always 
been mysterious and beyond conjecture. Though usually on 
the side of the capitalists and the heavy merchants, it really 
speaks for itself alone ; sometimes going in direct opposition 
to what seems its best interests. 

The Alhambra Palace, of which we hear much in this coun- 
try, as a peculiar and racy entertainment, I visited, as traveller 
bound. The building is very spacious, somewhat tawdry, and 
dingy. It has three galleries, and in the space under the dome 
are tables, flanked with benches, where those who like can 
eat, drink, and smoke during the performance. On the out- 
side of the space filled with tables are a number of stands 
where refreshments are sold by young women, who strive to 
be engaging. There is room for promenading, and during the 
evening men of a common kind lounge around, smoke, drink, 
and chat with the waiting-maids. The performance consists 
of music, vocal and instrumental, dancing, burlesque, tight-rope 
walking, and other varieties. The ballet, which had been 
praised to me, I found very inferior. Not one of the fifty or 
sixty girls could dance ; but they made up for that by lavish 
display of person and extremely immodest gestures. They 
seemed on very good terms with many persons in the audience, 
leering, winking, and smiling at fellows you would avoid in- 
stinctively if you met them late at night on London bridge. 

Blondin, styled on the programme " The Hero of Niagara," 
did his familiar feats over the heads of the audience, who 
would have been more interested in his performance if he had 
been of the opposite sex. 

The entire entertainment — to call it such — was very dol- 
orous. 

I was present at the opening of the Cremome Gardens. 
On the occasion a ball was given, which, it was understood, 
was to be attended by the representatives of the demi-monde. 
The night was cool ; so those who attended crowded into the 
large hall where the dancing was to be ; few of the men remov- 



THE CREMORNE. 



47 



ing tlieir overcoats. Tlie women came late, many of them be- 
ing members of the ballet corps of the theatres, and not 
relieved of duty, therefore, until nearly midnight. The women 
were nearly all of them decidedly plump, and showed great 
ingenuity in keeping on the wisp of drapery, believed errone- 
ously to be a waist. They were painted red and white, and 
their eyebrows, lashes, and eyes darkened to give them ex- 
pression — a melancholy failure. 




AFTER THB DANCE. 



The proportion of men to women was as twenty to one. 
Some of the latter would have seemed pretty if they had been 
in any degree modest. A few of the girls were in full mas- 
culine dress — black dress coats, white cravats and gloves — and 
attracted much attention by their rollicking licentiousness. 

The Cremorne is a very free place, as may be surmised by 
the fact that not long ago at a masquer ide a number of women 
appeared in real Highland costume, and did some astonishing 



48 



BEAUTIFUL WOMEN. 



waltzing in a densely crowded assembly. Paris would not 
tolerate that for a moment. 

What impressed me most at the Cremome was the appear- 
ance of many very young men who accompanied the painted 
wantons there. The young men had hardly the first down on 
their cheeks; were excessively "spooney" looking, and re- 
minded one of theological students laboring to be fast, and 
meeting with very dubious success. They must have been the 
victims of the loose creatures they so fondly clung to. 

The English beauty, upon which English writers insist so 

perpetually, seems to 
me much exaggerat- 
ed. The girls are 
fresh and healthy- 
looking, and when 
very young — from 
twelve to twenty — 
are often very hand- 
some. Then they 
remind one of 
American girls ; but 
when fully matured, 
and after mari'iage, 
they acquire a ful- 
ness, not to say fat- 
ness, that dissipates 
all romance, and es- 
tablishes a degree of 
physicality it is dif-. 
ficult for us to admire. 

The English women, regarded from a utilitarian point of 
view, are superior to our more delicate and spiritual beauties. 
They are better adapted to become mothers, to ride a steeple- 
chase, to take long journeys, to destroy good dinners and 
brown stout. But that is so material, it interferes with our 
idea of the esthetic. And beauty should be considered for it- 
self alone, independent of any use to which it may be put. 




AN ENGLISH BEAUTY. 



CHURCH OF ENGLANT). 49 

A strange scandal is that about the present Dnke of Wel- 
lington, whose residence stands near Hyde Park comer. The 
duke has never shown any particular capacity, except for 
rapid morals, for which he once enjoyed considerable reputa- 
tion. The story runs that while with a profligate companion 
in Southern Europe, some years ago, they obtained entrance 
by stealth or force into a Greek convent. Tlie religious dig- 
nitaries found them there, and regarding the offence as the 
greatest sacrilege, determined to put the young noblemen to 
death. They gave the rakes their choice between Abelard's 
fate and mmediate execution, "Wellington's companion pre- 
ferred death ; but "Wellington accepted the dreadful alternative. 

Improbable as this story is, many persons believe it. The 
foundation for it is, I suspect, that the duke was very wild, 
and that after several years of marriage, has had no children. 

The fish known as white bait, and caiight at a certain sea- 
son — the English say, only in the Thames — is something every 
American feels obliged to eat. It is a very small fish, resem- 
bling our minnow, and receives its name from its color, and 
from its use as bait. The English think it delicious, and boast 
of it as much as the Kussians do of the sterlet ; but I cannot, 
after frequent tests, discover its great excellence. The favorite 
mode of cooking white bait is to fry it, and then eat it with 
lemon juice and brown bread and butter. It tastes very much 
like our smelt, which in flavor it does not surpass. It is ex- 
pensive, which may account in part for the reputation it enjoys. 

The Established Church is in a singular state just now. 
Everything indicates that it must be the Disestablished Church 
before long, so cold and dead have many of its forms become, 
and so incongruous its elements. There are four divisions in 
the Church-^the Ritualists, the High Churchmen, the Low 
Churchmen, and the Broad Churchmen ; the last including 
latitudinarians, rationalists, free thinkers, and even atheists. 
The Ritualists and Broad Churchmen are declared to be sin- 
cere and earnest ; but the other two to be indifferent, willing 
to accept any sort of compromise that prevents agitation, and 
leaves them to their stolid quietude. 
4 



50 DEAN STANLEY. 

Dean Stanley, of Westminster Abbey, one of the most 
gifted of the Episcopal prelates — by many persons considered 
the intellectual head of the Church — is said, by those claiming 
to know, to be a mere deist, a disciple of Theodore Parker's 
radical doctrines. His sermons are very liberal, but so subtle 
and philosophical that his hearers, failing to understand their 
import, believe them the expression of true orthodoxy. Many 
of the prelates, like Pusey and Colenso, are charged with all 
manner of heresies; but, according to the articles of the 
Church, there seems no way of removing clerical dignitaries, 
whatever their opinions. It is claimed that when the Church 
was formed, it was a compromise with different elements, and 
was purposely made so broad and elastic that everybody could 
hold his own views, and yet remain in the pale. 




CHAPTER V. 



THE PROVINCES OF ENGLAITO. 




I ANUFACTURING towns are always melan- 
choly, those of England especially so. It mat- 
ters little whether it be Manchester or Birming- 
ham, Sheffield or Newcastle. Nearly the entire 
population seem to ' be operatives, who have a 
worn, haggard, over-worked appearance, that is 
unpleasant, not to say painful, to contemplate. 
They live in wretched, crowded, ill- ventilated quarters ; have 
no leisure for reflection or improvement, but toil from the 
cradle to the grave ; substitute dissipation for recreation ; fill 
the coffers of a few capitalists, and die the drudges they have 
lived. They meet with little sympathy in England. They 
know they can never rise beyond what they are. They have 
no future, as they have in our country. They are mere cum- 
berers of the soil for others' uses ; are regarded as machines 
worth so much per day. They are bound by an iron aestiny, 
and when they quit life, they can have little to regre since 
they have never had anything to hope for. Caste and capital 
rule on British soil, and Lord Noodle or Sir Edmund Profli- 
gate, though all sin ^nd selfishness, is honored and praised, 
while the poor honest man is never taken into account. 

Coventry is a city I visited on account of its ancient fame. 
I had expected to find it very old and unique — a kind of Eng- 
lish Ferrara or Mantua ; but it shows much freshness and spirit 
of improvement. It has sixty thousand people and many new 
buildings ; though the old part of the town, with its small tiled 
houses, and narrow streets, reveals its past. It has been a large 



52 PEEPING T03f. 

manufacturing point for rilibons and watches, but, during tlie 
last few years, its trkde has exhibited a marked decline, like 
most of the manufacturing towns of England. In all of them 
there are many persons unemployed, and the number is rap- 
idly increasing. Pauperism is spreading throughout the coun- 
try, in which no one can travel without arriving at the convic- 
tion that the great material prosperity of Britain is on the 
wane. 

The sole remedy for the existing condition of things is 
emigration. Thousands of honest working-men would come 
to America now if they had the means; and the next ten 
years will see a steady stream flowing to our shores. We have 
long sheltered English pickpockets, prize-fighters, and burg- 
lars : it is quite time we were favored with a worthier class. 

Coventry is always associated with Falstaffs ragged scare- 
crow army ; and were the oleaginous Jack alive, he would 
have little trouble in recruiting as forlorn a regiment as that 
which, according to that clever reporter, Will Shakespeare, so 
awoke his uproarious laughter. 

Lady Godiva and Peeping Tom involuntarily enter the 
mind when Coventry is mentioned. I wonder if any Tom 
could be found now-adays. This age is so accustomed to 
nudity in women that I fancy all curiosity on that subject is 
allayed. The prevailing modes and the ballet have destroyed 
much of the charm and mystery of loveliness unadorned, and 
few men are so ignorant or so prurient as to incur risk or dan- 
ger to behold Godiva riding through the streets when Godivas 
may be viewed with entire security at any of the theatres, and 
semi-nakedness leisurely observed in almost any fashionable 
drawing-room. 

The famous ride of Godiva is still repeated there, with the 
difference that a handsome youth is substituted for the fair 
lady. Every year, about Easter-time, a young man is attired 
in flesh-colored, tight-fitting silk, and with a wig of flowing, 
yellow tresses, rides through the city amid a crowd of specta- 
tors. The custom pleases the people, who, perhaps, have imagi- 
nation enough to change the sex of the masquerading boy. 



GHATSWORTH. 53 

Chatsworth, you know, is one of the largest estates of the 
Duke of Devonshire. It is in Derbyshire, and, as all tourists 
are supposed to go there, I made the visit. Chatsworth is 
certainly a magnificent estate, consisting of over seven thou- 
sand acres, admirably laid out, and liberally stocked with sheep 
and cattle of the finest breeds. There are also preserves of 
game, and parks of deer, with groves, gardens, and conserva- 
tories, worth a colossal fortune. 

It seems unjust that one man should own so much land 
where it is so scarce as in England ; and yet Chatsworth is 
only one of seven or eight splendid estates belonging to the 
Duke. He is estimated to be worth about twenty millions of 
pounds — one hundred millions of dollars — and to have an 
annual income of fully ten millions of dollars, a sum sufficient, 
with careful economy, to preserve him from absolute want. 
He has a model village for his tenants near his estate, and it is 
really what it claims to be. The dwelhngs are all substantially 
built of stone, with pleasant gardens, and would be desirable 
as homes for men of culture and taste. The Duke's residence, 
open to visitors, is completely palatial, filled with fine frescos, 
marbles, paintings, historical relics, and articles of virtu. The 
country people for many miles around deem it a rare privilege 
to see it, and going through it is an era in their quiet and 
monotonous lives. The privilege costs them two or three 
shillings, for everything in England must be paid for. The 
money is given to the servants, of course, but I should sup- 
pose a man of the Duke's wealth might pay his domestics 
enough to prevent them from taking money from strangers. 
They do not know how to extend courtesies in Europe. They 
call places free to the public ; but no one can enter them with- 
out expending as much as he would to go to the theatre or a 
concert. It is strange that noblemen do not perceive the bad 
taste of allowing t^eir servants to receive money. It not only 
undoes an act of kindness, but makes it appear as if they 
were making show-shops of their own homes. 

Chatsworth is over four hundred years old ; has been occu- 
pied in that time by the most distinguished historic person- 



64 HAUNTED CASTLE. 

ages. Queen Elizabeth, Mary Stuart, Charles I., Charles II., 
Queen Anne, Bacon, Essex, and Raleigh have banqueted and 
slept beneath its roof. 

Five or six miles from Chatsworth is Haddon Hall, one of 
the best preserved old castles I have seen in England. It was 
built during the reign of "WilKam the Conqueror, and though 
unoccupied since lYOO, it is kept in nearly the same state that it 
was five centuries ago. It gives an excellent idea of the strong- 
holds of the feudal times, when bold and unscrupulous barons 
held the power of life and death over their vassals, and robbed, 
fought, and pillaged, as they chose. There are the vast, rude 
kitchens and larders, the oak-built banquet-halls, the council 
chambers, the ball-rooms hung with faded tapestries, the closets 
of the jesters, as they were centuries ago. In the banquet- 
hall is an iron ring, to which those who failed to drink a certain 
quantity of wine were fastened, and cold water poured down 
their necks. 

The Hall, which is the property of the Duke of Rutland, 
is very interesting, but so dreary that few commoners would 
care to live in it. It is said to be haunted — all old buildings 
long deserted get that reputation — and by the spirit of a beau- 
tiful woman, whom a baron, in the time of Edward L, carried 
off in one of his forays and murdered, because she would not 
submit to his desires. The fair ghost is heard to moan and 
scream in the chambers of the round tower, and to be seen 
flitting about the battlements during tempestuous nights. 
Many of the rustics would not sleep in the Hall for all the 
Duke is worth, and some of them claim to have heard the mys- 
terious sounds, and to have seen the shadowy virgin more than 
once. The Hall is well fitted for ghosts, and I think if I were 
one I should immediately take possession. I am now medi- 
tating a supernatural story, and I intend to lay the scene there, 
having carefully noted down the various rumors that are afloat 
respecting the ancient castle. A woman in white conducted me 
through the different apartments ; but she did not look very 
ghost-like, and her mischievous eye, and pouting lips, and 
easy manner, as she ran carelessly up the stone staircases, did 



YORK. 55 

not indicate that she was in danger of dying from the same 
cause that gave to Haddon its wandering spirit. 

York gave me a day of satisfaction. Its ancient walls, 
though restored in part, are in general excellently preserved. 
The remains of its old castle and St. Mary's Abbey, and its 
Cathedral — the largest in England, not excepting St. Paul's — 
liberally repay a visit, apart from its many grotesque houses 
and antique streets. The Cathedral is a fine specimen of gothic, 
•and dates from the seventh century, though it did not have any- 
thing like its present form until five hundred years later. It 
is in the shape of a cross, a square massive tower rising from 
the intersection to the height of 240 feet, and two other towers 
of 200 feet flanking the richly-decorated front. The entire 
length is 524 feet, and the width 222 feet. The carved images 
of the N^orman kings, beginning with William, in the middle 
of the nave, are the best specimens of comic sculpture that I 
can remember. The monarchs resemble Celtic gentlemen, 
who, after holding an animated argument with shillalahs, had 
stood up in a row to whistle an Irish war-song with parched 
lips and cracking throats. Such a droll crew of crowned 
mountebanks can hardly be found anywhere else in ecclesiastic 
sculpture. If Punch would copy them, they would be vastly 
superior to most of his illustrations. The much boasted organ 
of the Minster disappointed me greatly. It is not half so 
sweet or rich in tone as the organ at Haarlem, Freiberg or 
Berne; but you can't make Yorkshiremen believe so. 

The county jail is now in the old castle, and it is a much 
better and neater jail than any in America. I can conscien- 
tiously recommend it to some of our countrymen whose mod- 
esty prevents them, though conscious of their deserving, from 
patronizing home institutions. Among the curiosities of the 
prison are Dick Turpin's manacles and pistols, and the cell in 
which he was confined. He was hanged near York; but, 
owing to an unfortunate fall, he was prevented from telling 
how he liked it. 

The origin of York is almost lost in fable. Under the 
Romans, Hadrian, Severus, Constantine, and other emperors 



66 NEWCASTLE. 

resided there, Severus having died in the town, and his 
funeral rites having been performed on Sivers Hill, near the 
city. During the Saxon rule it was the capital of the king- 
doms of Northumbria and Deira, and in the eighth century its 
diocesan school attracted students from all parts of the king- 
dom and the Continent. Its ancient walls, three miles long, 
restored by Edward I., have four imposing gates, and now 
serve for a promenade. Most of the streets are narrow and 
irregular, lined with very antique-looking houses ; but many* 
parts have been modernized, and have handsome buildings. 
Parliament street, with its termini, Sampson square, and the 
Pavement, in which the markets are held, is one of the pleas- 
ant quarters of the old town, which now has a population of 
over 42,000. 

Newcastle is the Pittsburgh of Great Britain, and, though 
well built, is one of the dingiest and dreariest towns in the 
whole United Kingdom. 

It is improving rapidly, and contains much wealth ; but I 
cannot see how anything except the tyranny of what men call 
business, can induce any one to live there. 

"What is known as the Old Castle, on the banks of the 
Tyne, is a most gloomy and most forbidding building. I 
looked at it one evening under a chilly and lowering sky, and 
thought it ought to have been one of the original contributions 
to Dante's Inferno. To stand under its shadows is enough to 
drive the last atom of cheerfulness out of the lightest heart. 
Persons troubled with excessive animal spirits should take an 
ocular dose of the dark tower two or three times a day. I 
have no means of ascertaining how many people thereabouts 
go to the gods by their own deliberate act ; but if a large num- 
ber do not, it is because sensibility is not one of the English 
idiosyncrasies. Most men are affected by externals, which are 
in that city of the most depressing character. 

The sun may shine there, but it did not while I was in the 
vicinity — a fact of which the natives seemed to be quite un- 
aware. "Fine weather this," said a citizen to me one morn- 
ing. " Oh, yes, delightful," I replied, supposing him to be 



CLOUDS OF SMOKE. 



67 



Jesting — an error on my part, which his subsequent remarks 
made clear. Englishmen rarely joke on any subject, and the 
spirit of badinage, so common with us, they seldom under- 
stand. Fine weather indeed ! "When he used the phrase the 
air was so dense with smoke and clouds formed therefrom that 
any one might have believed the centre of the solar system in 
total eclipse. 

Newcastle has very extensive manufactures, mostly in iron, 
and many handsome buildings, marred by great clouds of per-, 
petual smoke, which hang over the city like a pall. Its pres- 
ent population is about 120,000, and it boasts of Duns Scotus ; 
Akenside, the poet ; Hutton, the mathematician ; the Earl of 
Eldon, the famous chancellor, and Admiral Collingwood, as 
its native citizens. 




CHAPTEK YI. 



WABWICKSHIKE. 




jEAMINGTON, you know, is a very fashionable 
watering-place, perhaps the most fashionable of 
all the inland spas of England, having grown so of 
late years, during which it has quite eclipsed Bath, 
whose day of favor and prestige has gone by. 

Its sahne waters are highly recommended, es- 
pecially by those who have never tried them. Hav- 
ing experimented upon them in a small way, both 
internally and externally, I should judge that a man of ex- 
tremely vigorous constitution might drink and bathe in them, 
and live to be thirty years of age. It is quite possible that I 
am not a good judge, having suffered from excess of health 
from my earliest recollection. I gave my opinion one morn- 
ing to an old habitue of the place, when he told me the waters 
were for invalids, not for robust persons. Hence I conclude 
that, while the springs may kill a well man, they may cure an 
ill one. Argal, as Shakespeare's clowns say, they are not for 
me, and I'll no more of them. 

Leamington is an exceedingly pleasant town of 30,000 in- 
habitants, a good deal like Saratoga, except that it is better 
built and more attractive in its surroundings. Its hotels are 
superior to Saratoga, though less pretentious, and, albeit very 
dear for England, would be thought very cheap in America. 
The chief charm of Leamington is its contiguity to several of 
the most interesting places in England. It is in Warwick- 
shire (pronounced there as if it had no second ^6), and within a 
few miles of Stratford-on-Avon, Kenilworth, Newstead Abbey, 



KENIL WORTH. 6 9 

Warwick Castle, and Guy's Cliff. "With those I chiefly con- 
cerned myself ; and as the weather was delightful — very much 
like our month of May — I enjoyed my rides and drives exceed- 
ingly. 

The most interesting point after Stratford is Kenilworth, 
which, no doubt, owes its reputation more to "Walter Scott's 
novel than to any historic account ever given of it. "Who can 
think of Kenilworth without recalling the selfish and cruel 
Earl of Leicester and poor Amy Robsart, so brutally treated 
by her perfidious lover and inhuman husband? The apart- 
ments (or what remains of them) which Amy occupied are 
still pointed out, but her life at Kenilworth is so shrouded in 
mystery that all statements made about her must be received 
with caution. She was a foully-wronged woman beyond ques- 
tion ; but so many women have been foully wronged that 
mere wrong— more's the pity — entitles them to little distinc- 
tion. 

Kenilworth is more of a ruin than I had expected to find 
it. What Cromwell's soldiers left, sight-seers have sought to 
rifle. They have hacked the ruins and pulled out bricks to 
such an extent that entire portions of the walls have fallen 
down ; and those still standing require the support of heavy 
timbers. 

"What a mania is this of relic-hunters ! To gratify their 
vulgar curiosity, they spare nothing. If left to themselves, 
they would carry off the Cohseum and the Alhambra, piece by 
piece, and reduce St. Peter's and the Escorial to the condition 
of the Heidelberg Castle and the Baths of Caracalla. They 
are the modem Yandals, and without the excuse of the old 
barbarians, they wish their culture to be an apology for their 
ravages. 

Kenilworth is supremely picturesque, with its broken 
arches, its crumbling turrets, its shattered battlements, its 
mouldy towers covered with ivy and pleading with silent elo- 
quence for the romance of the past. The great gate-house or 
barbican is in the best state of preservation, but much of that 
was despoiled by Puritanic rage, and appropriated to ignoble 



60 REMIXISCENCES OF TEE CASTLE. 

uses. Caesar's Tower, in the Norman style of architecture, is 
the least imperfect part of the ruins. It was formerly the keep 
and citadel, and its lofty arches and the great thickness of its 
walls remind me of the Claudian aqueduct at Rome, The 
Banqueting Hall, built by John of Gaunt, is quite complete in 
parts. There Robert Dudley, the courfly villain and knightly 
sycophant, entertained the petticoated tyrant, and compared 
her homeliness to the beauty of Venus and the freshness of 
Hebe. There, for generations, were the royal ceremonials, 
the chivalrous assemblies, and the magnificent revels, in which 
the Plantagenets and Tudors took conspicuous part. How 
many splendid women and gallant warriors have laughed and 
loved there over their wine ; how many jewelled hands have 
touched with a thrill that was a revelation ; how many mailed 
heels have rung upon the marble pavements, and quaffed 
bumpers to York or Lancaster before they went to the tourna- 
ment and the front of battle ! The scenes of pomp and was- 
sail were so easily recalled that I lost myself in the purple 
mists of fancy until the cawing of the rooks flying about the 
battlements, reminded me that I stood by the grave of centu- 
ries. Mortimer's Tower, where the treacherous Earl of March 
feasted with his mistress, the unchaste Queen of Edward II., 
while the unfortunate monarch and his band languished in the 
dungeons of the castle, has almost entirely disappeared. So has 
the Tilt Yard, in which the famous tournament of the Round 
Table took place before the high-born beauties of the day. 

One can judge of what Kenil worth must have been by 
what it is. There is an engraving, by Ratclyffe, of the castle 
in 1620, which shows it in all its beauty, with the ornamental 
gardens smTounding the Plaisance, filled with fomitains, avi- 
aries, statues, arches, and grottos. With Elizabetli the last 
gleam of its splendor departed ; but with her and her magnifi- 
cent era of poets, warriors, statesmen, and scholars, it will al- 
ways be associated. Kenilworth was a right royal place once ; 
never more so than when the last of the Tudors carried her 
red hair and Amazonian features to the entertainment that 
nearly made Leicester bankrupt. 



WABWICK CASTLE. 61 

They were copious drinkers iu those days, for, according 
to an antique chronicler, a thousand hogsheads of beer and 
wine were consumed during the festal occasion on which the 
Queen was the guest of the fawning and favored Earl, Eliza- 
beth herself was a very capable imbiber of liquids that cheer 
and do inebriate, and tradition has it that she frequently be- 
came so affected by her potations that some one of her numer- 
ous favorites had to carry her to bed. A magnificent, aquiline- 
nosed sham was that self-styled Maiden Queen ! 

Warwick Caatle is one of the finest in England, and beauti- 
^ fully situated on the Avon — Shakespeare's river, as it may 
well be called. Its origin is mythical, the antiquarians declar- 
ing, with their usual fecundity of invention, that the Eomans 
began it. Dugdale says Ethelfleda, daughter of Alfred the 
Great, was its founder, and that Henry de Newburg, a ]^or- 
man, improved and added to the fortress. It came into the 
possession of the Nevilles by the marriage of Cicely, daughter 
of Richard ISTeville, Earl of Salisbury, to Henry, seventh Earl 
of Beauchamp. The famous king-maker, as the friend and 
foe of Edward TV. was called, lived there. By the marriage 
of his daughter Isabella to the Duke of Clarence, it passed to 
the Plantagenets ; then to the Dudley family ; then to that 
of Rich ; then to the Grevilles, to whom the present Earl of 
WarM'ick is related. 

The present walls, with the battlements and towers, are 
certainly four or five hundred years old, but the interior is 
comparatively modern. The approach to the outer court of 
the Castle, is through a winding road cut out of the solid rock, 
draped with ivy and evergreens. After passing through it, 
you are confronted by gray stone towers and battlements of 
the l^orman pattern, that seem as if they might have been 
erected last year, so fresh do they look. The grounds of the 
inner court are laid out in the usual elaborate but artificial 
English style. You enter the Castle by the great hall, where 
you are shown by a pompous servant, in anticipation of half a 
crown, the reception and the banquet rooms, the chapel, the bed 
in which Queen Anne slept (I am tired of seeing beds where 



62 ENGLISH FLUNKEYISM. 

women have slept), the armory, containing suits of mail and 
weapons of the feudal times, including the helmet, cuirass, and 
sword of the King-Maker, the helmet of Oliver Cromwell, the 
dagger of Eichard III., the gauntlets of Edward lY., and other 
things of historic interest. There are a number of paintings, 
too, by the old masters, nearly all of them inferior to what 
you see on the Continent. A Circe, by Guido, was the only 
one that impressed me ; and my unwillingness to admire what 
the lackey pointed out with much more pride than if he had 
been the original "William de Beauchamp of the family, seemed 
to disturb his equanimity. 

Those English flunkeys amuse me. They think every- 
body should be enthusiastic over each bit of marble, gilding 
and canvas that belongs to their masters. It is very droll to 
hear them grappling with Italian and French names when 
they can't pronounce their own correctly. They drop their 
JCs religiously ; but they understand economy, for they pick 
them up and apply them to all words beginning with a vowel, 
so that none of them are lost. 

"When the Earl of Warwick's servant told me this or that is 
so and so, I replied, " Oh, yes, I know all about it. I've 
seen the original in Rome, or Florence, or Dresden ; " and to 
his comments of " That is very fine, hexceedingly beautiful," 
etc., I responded, "Yes, very good; but on the Continent 
they have better, of course." It was a petty sort of malice ; 
but the fellow was so inflated with the idea of being a noble- 
man's servant, that he sometimes forgot himself Before he 
had conducted me half way through the apartment he became 
much subdued, and ceased to give me his critical views on 
Morelo and Dominicko, as he called Murillo and Domenichi- 
no. When I went away, he looked as if I ought to hand him 
a sovereign, inasmuch as I had not been properly impressed 
by his importance and his artistic taste. 

Guy of Warwick was a very remarkable person, as you 
must be aware, if you have ever read the legends of Warwick 
Castle. The old woman at the porter's lodge invites you, or 
the shilling she sees in your eye, to inspect his arms, and some 



A SAXON GIANT. 63 

of his relics which are under her custody. She declares he 
was a Saxon giant, nine and a half feet high, and if you would 
give her half a crown, she would inform you he was twelve. 

She showed me a huge copper kettle, in which, she said, 
his porridge was made. That, I pretended to understand, was 
his tea-cup, and remarked that he must have been a very good- 
sized fellow for England, but that in America a man of ten feet 
was below the average height. She looked at me, and ex- 
pressed some surprise ; but observing that she was taking my 
altitude, I informed her I was a dwarf ; that for several years 
I exhibited myself throughout the country, and that I made 
so much money, I had to come to Europe to get rid of it. 

The joke was lost. She believed every word of it. The 
English, whether cultivated or uncultivated, rarely see a jest. 

Guy's Cliff is worth visiting, because it shows you how the 
nobihty of England live. Though an ancient seat, it is now 
used as a country-house by a family of distinction, and can be 
seen during their absence. The furniture of the most wealthy 
families in Great Britain is very plain compared to ours. 
They spend in pictures and articles of virtu what we lavish in 
showier things. Tradition has it that the redoubtable Guy of 
Warwick left the Castle, and went there to close his days in 
penitence and prayer, while his lovely wife mourned him as 
dead in her baronial home. The truth, probably, is that she 
was disagreeable and addicted to curtain-lectures, and that he, 
not relishing them, shut himself up in the Cliff and drank him- 
self into a coffin. 

Newstead Abbey has been greatly restored and beautified 
by its present owner, a Mr. Webb, a man of large fortune and 
scientific tastes. Byron's apartments are kept as he left them, 
and have been so much visited since the late scandal that the 
family are much annoyed. A tree near the Abbey contains 
the poet's mother's name, and some verses to her, cut with his 
own hand. The tree is more frequently looked at than ever, 
but it is not regarded as sentimentally as it used to be. The 
Abbey is picturesquely situated, but it is so damp, owing to a 
lake near it, as to be very unhealthy. All the infants who 



64 



BYRON^S APARTMENTS. 



hare been bom there for years have died, and a superstition 
arose that it was because a skull of one of Byron's ancestors 
(he was in the habit of using it as a tobacco box) remained un- 
buried. Recently, the skull has been put under earth, but the 
atmosphere has not grown more salubrious. 

Byron was so fond of being talked about that he ought to 
come back now and have his inordinate vanity gratified. A 
woman in Paris said when I was there, " A man who would 
seduce his sister must be so diabolically wicked that he could 
not fail to be interesting." 





TOWER OF LONDON 




' CHAPTER YII. 

STRATrOKI>ON-AVON. SHAKESPEARE. 

•ITCH as the quiet village of Stratford is visited, it 
is much less visited than one would suppose from 
the world-wide reputation of him who was bom 
there, and with whom it is always associated. It 
might naturally be expected that every train 
would take dozens of persons to the spot which appeals more 
to the intellectual and cultivated of every nation than any 
other mental Mecca in either hemisphere. 

It is not so, however. The English go between Liverpool 
and London every hour, and yet few take Stratford on their 
way ; and even when they pass through it, they seldom stop 
to look at the tomb of the most marvellous poet of all time. 
I have met a number of literary men in London who have 
never been there, and who probably never will go, from the 
fact that the journey is so easily made. I have seen Ameri- 
cans, too, who, after travelling all over the Continent, visiting 
Egypt and the Orient, had failed to see the slab that covers 
the ashes of "William Shakespeare. The Americans, however, 
know much more of the poet than the English, who read him 
little, comparatively, and seem to have much less appreciation 
of him than our own people. From April to the end of Octo- 
ber, quite as many Americans as native Britons visit Stratford, 
as is shown by the registers kept at the church and the house 
in Henley street. 

I have no doubt it will sound strange to John Bull and his 
brethren, but Shakespeare, to my mind, was far more Ameri- 
can than English, and many of his creations are American 
6 



SHAKESPEARE. 



types. Hamlet is the exponent of a liiglily cultivated, ex- 
tremely sensitive, morbid American, placed beyond the need 
of exertion, tortured by ideals, and haunted by consciousness 
of indecision. I have known many Hamlets; indeed, it is 
quite a common character in this country. But I have never 

encountered a British Ham- 




let. 



The English seldom un- 



SHAKESPEAKE. 



derstand or admire the crea- 
tion. They consider Ham- 
let, as Carlyle does, a mere 
milksop, who was maddest 
when most logical. 

Shakespeare's heroines, 
many of them, are rather of 
the American than English 
type — as Ophelia, Portia, 
Imogen, Desdemo n a , and 
Yiola. In fact, we have a 
right to the great bard in 
that he anticipated our de- 
velopment. He spiritually belongs to us, for we sympathize 
with, and comprehend him better than the people for whom 
he wrote. Shakespeare is a liousehold word with us. His 
name is a charm, an inspiration. If I were inclined to take 
off my hat at the mention of any one, it would be at the men- 
tion of William Shakespeare, for I regard him as the Jesus 
of the intellectual world. 

Before going to Stratford I had expected to be overrun 
with guides, offering their services, and determined to show 
me Anne Hathaway' s cottage, if I declined to accept their con- 
duct to Shakespeare's tomb or his house. I was very agree- 
ably disappointed. Ko one approached me, though many 
knew me to be a stranger, and probably conjectured the pur- 
pose of my visit. I went down the first street, and, meeting 
one of the villagers, I inquired, " Can you direct me to Shake- 
speare's house ? " 
" "Whose house ? " 



CHURCH ON THE AVON. 



67 



I don't think he lives about 
and I never heard of the 



" Shakespeare's." 

" What Shakespeare ? " 

"William Shakespeare." 

" I don't know any snch man 
here. I was born in this villa£ 
name of Shakespeare." 

I asked no more questions. I went on, musing upon the 
uncertainty of fame. He who had filled civilization with his 
genius, and made English seem an inspired tongue, had not 
reached the memory of the rustic whose home was less than 
five hundred yards from where the poet died. 

I stepped into an ale-house to drink down my astonish- 
ment, when in came a poor youth afflicted with St. Yitus's 
dance, who said he knew what I wanted, and that he would 
like to "show me round"; informing me he had acted as 
guide for Artemas Ward, Longfellow, and Jefferson Davis. 
I smiled at the connection, and 
could not resist the thought that 
Stratford was so Shakesperian 
that the only guide in it must 
needs himself shake at every word 
he uttered. That was a bad joke, 
in private, of which I doubly re- 
pented when I looked into the 
unfortunate fellow's kindly face. 
By way of atonement, I engaged 
him at once, at thrice the price he 
asked, though I really had no need 
of his guidance. 

When I entered the Church of 
the Holy Trinity, on the banks of 
the Avon, service had just begun ; so I was obliged to wait 
until it was over before I could look leisurely at Shakespeare's 
tomb. As the service consisted merely of some abominable 
readings in the worst English accent, it was not very interest- 
ing nor edifying. I consoled myself with the reflection that 
that was the penalty I paid for the satisfaction of my pilgrim- 




STOfTE TABLET. 



68 GRAVE OF SHAKESPEARE. 

age, and so endured the liollow forms for fully fifteen minutes, 
counting bj my watch — two hours, counting by my feelings. 

After the prayer had been monotonously sung, and the 
few worshippers had departed, one of the surpliced priests re- 
appeared, in secular garb, and asked if I wished to see the slab 
covering the remains. I replied affirmatively, when he rolled 
back the matting before the chancel, and there I read the 
familiar lines beginning, 

" Stranger, for Jesus' sake, forbear 
To dig the dust that is enclosed here." 

Shakespeare's wife, their two children, and grandchild are 
buried by his side, and their graves are pointed out by the 
clergymen, as they need to be, since the inscriptions are bare- 
ly legible. On the wall, near the tablet and effigy, is a notice 
to this effect : " Yisitors are particularly requested not to step 
upon the slab covering the sacred ashes of the dead." I thought 
that very appropriate until I saw, after the handing of a shil- 
ling to the priest, that he did not avoid stepping upon the slab, 
nor did he request me to avoid it. 

The words " until the customary fee is paid," should have 
been added to the notice ; but the phrase, no doubt, is sup- 
posed to be understood. The English complain of the fees 
exacted on the Continent for sight-seeking ; but their country 
is quite as bad as Switzerland, Germany, or Italy. It does 
seem to me that if there is any one place that an English- 
speaking person ought to be privileged to behold without 
draught on his purse it is Shakespeare's tomb. The notice to 
visitors is ingeniously contrived. Without it persons would 
look at the effigy and tablet in the wall, and go away conclud- 
ing that they had seen all that is to be seen. The notice cor- 
rects this error, and insures the receipt of a shilling. If the 
money so contributed might be expended in giving the priests 
who officiate in the church a course of elocutionary lessons, it 
would be well bestowed. "Were I compelled to attend service 
there, I'd gladly contribute a shilling or two every Sunday out 
of regard for my ear, already so deeply wounded. 



EFFIGY OF SHAKESPEARE. 60 

The effigy of the great dramatist is grotesque. It represents 
him with a pen and scroll in his hands, resting on a cushion. 
The face is entirely wooden, without character or expression, 
and recalls the blocks one sees in hair-dealers' windows, for the 
support and display of wigs. The stone was whitewashed 
until nine years ago, when the whitewash was removed, and 
the original colors restored, thereby making it look worse than 
before. I can think of nothing that more closely resembles a 
sign for a tobacconist's shop, or a rude carving of a Teutonic 
beer-drinker, such as you see sometimes in Germany, than that 
effigy of the immortal bard. How much he has been wronged 
facially ! Shakespeare may not have been handsome, in the 
usual sense; but the man who could create "Lear," "Macbeth," 
and " Othello," could not have resembled a boiled carrot or a 
coarse figure on a Dutch clock. 

With what must have been his intense love of beauty, I 
should fancy his spirit might be indignant even now at the 
caricature of the face that has been for more than two centu- 
ries put off upon the world. But he was too large for that. 
He never concerned himself even about his wonderful plays. 
It is not likely he would trouble himself in regard to his pic- 
tures, ti-ue or false, especially in the all-satisfying sphere in 
which he must be now. 

The church is a handsome gothic building, and its situation 
on the banks of the Avon, its old graveyard and crumbling 
headstones, and its graceful spire, of modern construction, 
make it very agreeable to visit, apart from the sacred ashes it 
contains. To the sentimental and romantic, its benches on the 
margin of the stream — small and sluggish, but not without 
beauty — offer place and inducement for reverie and contempla- 
tion. I saw several young women sitting there, evidently 
trying to work themselves up to the proper mood. If I had 
been gallant, I might have aided them ; but, as it was, I went 
my way in silence to Shakespeare's house, in Henley street, 
which is now owned by the Shakespearian Club, who pur- 
chased it a number of years ago^ and keep in it a custodian, 
to whom you pay sixpence for admission. The dwelling seems 



70 SHAKESPEARE'' S HOME 

rude enough now, but it was thought very comfortable, and 
not without pretension, in the poet's day. It is two stories 
high, with gables of oak frame filled with cement, and has 
undergone very little change since its occupation by Shake- 
speare's father, who was a man of position and property, hav- 
ing at one time been the mayor of Stratford. You enter the 
house through the kitchen, paved with common flags, and 
ascend to the first apartment, in which the poet was bom. It 
seemed very natural, devoid of reverence though I may be, to 
uncover in the rude room where the poet of eternity first saw 
the light. How little his mother, whatever her maternal hopes, 
could have dreamed what the infant — the boy in the homely 
chamber — would become, and how, for centuries after, men of 
other climes would sail from beyond the seas to bow before 
the mighty genius which is as fresh to-day as when it first 
flashed into recoc:niti()u. 

There are seven or 
eight rooms in the house, 
three of them called the 
Museum, for admission to 
which an additional six- 
pence is charged. The 
Museum is interesting, as 
it contains his seal ring, 
the earliest copies of his 
works, various illustrated 
editions, numerous por- 
^^ traits, or what claim to be 
"sHAKESPEARE's HOME. sucli, aud all tlic Sliake- 

spearian relics that could be collected. 

Strange to say, not a scrap of his manuscript is there — not 
even his autograph, nor a single letter, save one, of the many 
he must have received. The total disappearance of almost 
everything that belonged to, or might have been part of, the 
man, is as wonderful as his genius. I^o marvel some persons 
hold that such a being never existed. 

If there was no Shakespeare, who wrote the plays ascribed 




UNPARDONABLE VANDALISM. 7l 

to him ? That's the question no one has been able to answer, 
for the theories about Bacon, though specious, are not to be 
entertained. 

No human creature could afford to forego the imperishable 
fame that any one of Shakespeare's dramas was certain to in- 
sure. The mj^thical Homer, Dante, Tasso, Goethe, and all 
the others who have been ranked with Shakespeare, pale before 
his divine and unquenchable fire. 

It is curious to observe the difference in the pretended por- 
traits of the poet. Each artist who has attempted to represent 
the bard, has put his peculiar nationality and notions into the 
picture. It is easy to recognize the French, the German, and 
the Italian schools ; and of the twenty portraits, though they 
have something in common, no two look alike. The Chandos 
picture, in the National Gallery in London, is declared to be 
the best ; but I don't believe it resembles Shakespeare closely. 
It is more Italian or Spanish in appearance than it is English, 
and reminds me of some of Murillo or Yelasquez's portraits 
in Madrid. The poet was not brunette, I fancy, but rather 
blond, more like the picture that hangs in his house, and 
which belonged to the clerk of the county for more than a 
hundred years. 

- How long Shakespeare lived in the building in Henley 
street is unknown, though there is no doubt he was born there, 
and probably his father before him. The house in which he 
died was pulled down by the Reverend (?) Francis Gastrell, 
because he was annoyed by visitors to the place. What a 
clerical old curmudgeon he must have been ! Certainly he 
deserves to be damned to everlasting fame. Could anybody 
bom out of England have been guilty of such a deliberate 
piece of hoggishness ? 

The foundation of the house only remains, but still attracts 
visitors to the quarter of the village in which it stands. 

To Anne Hathaway's cottage, in Chartery, I made a pil- 
grimage, and found it a very old, tliatched, humble abode. In 
it is preserved the bench on which Shakespeare is said to have 
wooed Anne, and the comer of the fireplace where they sat 



12 ANNE HATHAWAY'' S COTTAGE. 

during the long winter evenings. What wonderful talk he 
must have poured into her love-greedy ear ! (I won't for the 
time accept the probability that he was not very fond of her.) 
What a pity it is some zealous reporter could not have intro- 
duced himself into the closet, and put down the magical sen- 
tences of tenderness and truth ! We should have found all 
"Eomeo and Juliet," all "Cymbeline," all "Hamlet," all 
" Othello," flowing from his inspired lips. No wonder he won 
Anne, though seven years his senior. His speech would have 
won any woman. 

The cottage at last accounts was to be sold. -The govern- 
ment, or some scholar, should buy it, that we may all have the 
privilege of visiting the roof where lived and loved the woman 
who must ever arouse all our imagination when we think she 
was Shakespeare's wife. 

Shakespeare's wife ! What new sweetness and beauty is 
lent to the word when we couple it with his name, and remem- 
ber that she saw his secret self, and slept upon the heart for 
whose faintest tone the world hungers after two centuries and 
a half of its music forever hushed ! 





CHAPTEE Yin. 

DESCENT INTO A COAL-PIT. 

AYING heard, for years, of the wretched and 
unnatiiral life miners are compelled to lead, I 
determined, during my last visit to England, 
to make a descent into some of the pits, and judge 
for myself. I M^as prepared for something horri- 
ble, for I had been told, over and again, that men 
were employed in the collieries, and women, too, 
who, for weeks and months, never saw the light of day ; that 
infants were often born in the subterranean regions, and, for 
years unable to see the sun, withered and died, hke plants 
striving to grow in a cellar. 

For a fortnight I tried to find the deepest pit in England, 
and soon learned that the Weannouth colhery, at Sunderland, 
on the coast of the German Ocean, twelve miles from Newcas- 
tle-on-Tyne, was the one that would give me the best (or worst) 
idea of labor in the bowels of the earth. The Wearmouth is — 
with, perhaps, one exception, the Duckenfield, near Manches- 
ter — the deepest colliery in England. It has been worked for 
forty years ; is nearly 2,000 feet below the surface, and has 
three walls or galleries extending from one and a half to three 
miles in length. One of the walls is dug under the sea, and 
yields as fine coal as either of the others. It employs 1,200 
men, has two shafts, each with two light tub cages, each tub 
containing eight and a half cwts. of coal. The mine is capable 
of drawing 2,000 tons each day, counted as twelve hours — 
probably the largest yield of any coUiery in Europe. 

A singular history is that of the Wearmouth. Richard 



74 



A SUCCESSFUL M0N03IANIAC. 



Pemberton, a man of means, first conceived the idea that coal 
was to be found on the spot. He began operations, and soon 
exhausted his fortune, without finding coal. His friends en- 
deavored to dissuade him from pursuing the enterprise, confi- 
dent he had made a mistake. He would not listen to them : 
he felt certain the coal was there. His relatives were wealthy, 
and, inspiring them with his enthusiasm, they at first lent hun 
aU the money he asked for. Still he did not succeed. They 
began to be distrustful ; but he, being a man of strong will 
and much persuasive power, induced them to make advances, 
mitil they were literally bankrupt. Again his friends impor- 
tuned him to desist. He would not heed them — seeming to 
become more confident as they grew more despondent. He 
swore lie would dig down to hell before he would stop ; that 
if he did not get coal, he would find cinders. He was declared 
crazy, but he still continued to raise money. He would never 
admit the possibility of failure ; but hope, so long deferred, 
evidently wore upon him. He grew thin and haggard, taciturn 
and morose ; and, naturally of a high temper, his nearest friends 
were afraid to speak to him of the mine, about which they 
believed he had become a monomaniac. 

At last, one day when he was in Newcastle, coal was reached. 
A messenger went 
post-haste from 
Sunderland to in- 
form him hastily 
of the joyous news. 
Pemberton met the 
messenger on the 
bridge over the 
Tyne, and heard 
the tidings as he 
was riding moodily 
along on horseback. 
Pemberton' s cheek 
flushed; Ids eye fatal news. 

flashed when the fact was announced. He reeled from his 




AT THE MIXE. 75 

seat and fell to the ground as if he had been shot. He was 
picked up insensible. He never spoke afterward, and in twenty- 
foui- hours was a corpse- 

The glad news had killed him. But all his expectations 
of the mine were realized after death. To-day his son receives 
a very large income from the company of capitahsts who are 
working the Wearmouth. 

I arrived at Sunderland early in the morning, and ap- 
plied for permission to go into the mine. The superintendent, 
or chief viewer, as he is called, had not arrived. I was obliged 
to wait for an hour, and during that time I was about the 
colliery, and saw the miners descending in the cars to their 
daily work. They went down a shaft, out of which the hot 
air and smoke were nishing as if from the fabled pit. The 
blast was like that from the crater of Vesuvius, and almost 
suffocated me. It was not of a character to encourage my 
adventure ; but I had gone there to go into the mine, and go 
I would. I returned to the office, and found the chief viewer. 
He was very courteous and pleasant ; said he was entirely will- 
ing I should go, though he felt bound to tell me that the ad- 
venture was not without danger, adding, "Two gentlemen, 
who- made a descent out of curiosity, were killed near here 
last week." 

"If you have no objection, I should like to go." 

" You are not afraid, then ? " 

I smiled. 

" Oh, yes, I see," he said, looking at my card before him, 
"you are an American, and a journalist. Of course you'll 
■go," and he smiled in turn. 

Before going down, it was necessary to put on a miner's 
costuuite. I went into an upper room of the office, and was 
feoon aiTayed in a coarse woollen shirt, short trousers, a jacket, 
and an old leather cap. Then arming myself with a stick and 
a safety-lamp, I set out. I fancied I looked like a pro- 
fessional miner, barring my French boots; but as I passed 
through a line of miners, smoking near the colliery, they 
looked so pleased as I went by, that I am afraid my disguise 
was not so complete as I had supposed. 



% 



DOWN THE SHAFT. 



The resident viewer, who accompanied me, did not take 
me to the smoky shaft, but to another one, where the air was 
quite cool and fresh. "We stepped into a coal-bucket, and 
whirled down in about two minutes to the bottom of the pit. 
The descent was exhilarating, and I enjoyed it. It seemed 
very dark at first, and for a minute the lamps were of little 
service. I soon grew accustomed to the darkness, and groped 
along until I reached a cabin to wait for the coal cars, sixty in 
number, which are drawn up and down the gallery on a rail- 
way, by a rope fastened to a wheel moved by an engine. The 
cars arri\ang, I shut myself up like a jack-knife in one, and 
was bumped along for a mile " over the rails in six minutes. 
Then I got out, and walked another mile in a tunnel (blasted 
out of the rocks) not much over three feet high, stepping aside 

every few minutes to let the 
coal cars, dragged by horses, 
pass, and experiencing some 
difficulty in avoiding being 
run over. Considering the 
narrowness of the pass, the 
lowness of the roof, and the 
faint lights, which hardly re- 
lieve the mine from total 
darkness at some points, it is a 
wonder more are not injured. 
As it is, accidents from the cars are nearly as numerous as 
they are on the Erie Railway, son^ebody being killed or 
wounded almost every week. For a man troubled with lum- 
bago, I should not recommend the Wearmouth colliery for 
regular exercise. It is trying even for the lithe-limbed and 
supple-backed. 

In half an liour we reached the place where the coal was 
being dug out. The galleries are ventilated by means of a 
furnace, which rarifies the air near the main shaft ; but still 
the atmosphere is hot and very close. I don't perspire very 
freely ; but the perspiration poured down my face, and I was 
moist from head to foot. 




T! N'^EL IN THE MINE. 



UNDER THE SEA. Il 

There I stood, and watched great muscular fellows swing- 
ing their picks, and cutting out vast pieces of coal, which were 
shovelled into the cars, and carried off every few minutes. 
The miners wore no clothes, save shoes and a breech-clout, 
and were so begrimed with coal-dust that they resembled ne- 
groes. How they did toil — they are paid by the car-load — 
and perspire, and perspire and toil, in the black vaults ! I 
really pitied them ; but they did not seem to mind it. They 
work for six or seven hours, and are then relieved by 
fresh hands. They make very fair wages for that country, and 
their position, so far from undesirable, is deemed en^aable by 
thousands among the laboring classes. Still, such severe toil, 
far away from the light and the breeze of heaven, is unnatural, 
and must be unwholesome. That men can stand it for a 
long time; is no argument in its favor. The fact only proves 
the vigor of their constitution and their power of endurance. 
Occupation is good for all of us ; but toil, call it by what fine 
name we may, is an evil and a curse, as much so as war or 
famine. 

After watching the process of getting out coal for half an 
hour, I went to another part of the mine, and finally, to the 
end of a gallery cut under the sea. It seemed singular that 
the ocean should be tumbling over my head, and ships sailing, 
perhaps the elements raging ; yet, in the dark pit, there was 
no sound but the rumbling of the cars, the click of the picks, 
and the scrape of the shovels. 

What a pleasant predicament I should have been in, if old 
Neptune had been inclined to pay a visit to the pit ! I tried 
to get up a sensation by indulging my imagination, but I could 
not. The possibility was too remote ; and then I remembered 
that Plato, not Neptune, has jurisdiction over the pit. Con- 
found mythology! Like other knowledge, it destroys most 
of the illusions we strive to cherish. 

The veins or strata of coal in the Wearmouth are from 
three to six feet thick. "When the coal is taken out, the walls 
are propped up, this being done over night that the miners 
may work without interruption by day. The stone above 



18 LIFE IN THE MINES. 

and below the coal is very hard, so that the galleries are made 
with exceeding difficulty. The colliers never work over 
twelve or thirteen hours at a time ; those who have hard labor 
not more than six or seven. They return to the upper air as 
soon as their task is over, and appear to be strong and health- 
ful. Boys work in the mines who are not more than nine or 
ten years of age, and as they rarely change their life, the col- 
liery becomes their world, and a cheerless, dreary world it is, 
heaven knows ! The resident viewer who accompanied me, 
now over fifty, told me he began as a boy of ten, and he has 
been in a colliery ever since. He has risen as high as a man 
of his class can. He is healthy and vigorous ; yet there is a 
hardness and sadness in his face and manner that are the un- 
mistakable results of living half his life out of the fresh air and 
the sunshine. 

The stories about the English mines have been absurdly 
exaggerated. The mines are not such horrible places as we 
have been led to believe ; but they are quite bad enough, I 
should suppose, even for those who think it just that some 
men should be slaves, while others, no less deserving, enjoy 
the luxury of doing as they choose. 

After spending four or five hours in the deepest coal- 
cellar I had ever been in, I concluded to go up to the sky- 
parlor again. I have an aversion to returning anywhere by 
the same route I have come ; so I asked to make the ascent of 
the smoky shaft. 

" Do you think you can stand it, sir ? " inquired my guide. 
" It is a hundred and eighty degrees there, and the smoke is 
stifling. Are your lungs good and strong, sir ? " 

" They are like leather. Some of the miners go up the 
smoky shaft, and I think I can do what they can." 

" I'm not so sure of that, sir. They're used to it. You're 
not a miner, sir, if you have got on a miner's clothes." 

" Well, I'm as dirty as any miner ; I'll wager a sovereign 
against a shilling on that ; and I don't believe I can suffocate 
through all the layers of coal that divide me from my natural 
body." 



ABOVE GROUXD AGAIN. VO 

, " You don't look quite as trim as you did, sir, M'lien you 
got out at the station this morning." 

" Let us go ; " and we went. 

I endured the dense smoke and ovei'powering heat for two 
minutes very heroically, I thought. I breathed with difficulty, 
and my blood boiled in my veins while ascending the shaft. 
But I got out without asphyxia or congestion, and I relished 
the journey — it was so peculiarly disagreeable, and because I 
might not have gotten out at all. 

What a spectacle I was in the sunlight ! I looked as if I 
had been beaten through Tophet with a soot-bag, and had re- 
turned by the same route. 





CHAPTEE IX. 

NOKTHEEN IRELAND. 

IIEN an American goes to Ireland it seems 
very much as if he were visiting his own 
country. He sees the same faces, hears the 
same voices, notices the same peculiarities, 
with which he has been familiar from his 
childliood. Barring the externals, Dublin 
becomes New York ; Cork, Boston ; Galway, Cincinnati ; and 
Limerick, St. Louis. He does not find, as he may have ex- 
pected, the indigenous Irish different from the transplanted 
article. They have similar virtues, inconsistencies, and short- 
comings there as here, proving the truth of the old apothegm, 
" They change their sky, and not their mind, who cross the sea." 
This is supposing that one enters Erin from the South, 
which is as unlike the North as France is unlike Spain, or 
Germany unlike Italy. Most of the people of Northern Ire- 
land — I went there first — are far more Scotch than Irish ; so 
much so, that in going from Glasgow to Belfast, or from Edin- 
burgh to Londonderry, one hardly perceives he has gotten into 
another country. The marked Scotch element disappears 
steadily as you move toward Leinster, and, having passed be- 
yond the line of Dundalk Bay, the character of the inhabitants 
undergoes a very sensible change. Belfast, though the second 
city in population — it now has 130,000 souls — is the first in 
point of trade and manufactures. Situated at the head of a 
fine bay, with its numerous and extensive linen factories, its 
considerable commerce, and various branches of industry, it is 
not strange that the growth of the modern town has been so 



giant'' S CAUSEWAY. 81 

rapid, and its prosperity so remarkable. It recalls Manchester 
and Liverpool, though it is cleanlier and more regularly laid 
out. In no other Irish city is there such excellent provision 
for general education, and consequently idleness and crime ar^ 
little known. Many of its linen estabhshments are so large 
and costly, that on several occasions I mistook them for pal- 
aces—the word means less abroad than with us. Men who, 
twenty years ago, had nothing, are now millionaires — a change 
of circumstances very rare in Europe. Several citizens of 
Belfast are worth, I have been told, over £800,000 or £900,000, 
and the number of those is large who have annual incomes of 
£10,000, £15,000, and £20,000. These wealthy Imen mer- 
chants are usually very intelligent and liberal ; have comfortable, 
rather than luxurious homes, and dispense wide and cordial 
hospitality. Most of their residences are outside of the city, 
where, as is common in Great Britain, they spend upon their 
grounds what we lavish upon furniture and fashionable display. 
Being in the north of Ireland, we very naturally go, either 
by water or by land, to the Giant's Causeway, with which our 
first geography made us familiar. Like most things from which 
we have large expectations, it proves a disappointment. I set 
it down as one of the shams of travel along with the catacombs 
of Rome, the glories of the Rhine, the beauty of the Unter den 
Linden, the charm of Holyrood Palace, and the perfect clean- 
liness of Holland. It is totally unlike what I had anticipated. 
Any one sailing along the coast would fail to be struck by the 
so-called great natural curiosity, and if of a sceptical turn, 
would with difficulty be made to believe it what he had so 
often heard of. It is a rocky mole of columnar basalt, seven 
hundred feet long, but greatly varying in breadth and eleva- 
tion, rising sometimes to a height of two hundred and fifty 
feet. It separates two little bays, called Port Ganniary and 
Port Koffer, formed by the windings of the coast. The curi- 
ous three-pillared formation, known as the Chimney-tops, looks 
so much like turrets that it is not strange one of the ships of 
the Spanish Armada, as is said, battered it with shot for some 
time, under the delusion that it was Dunluce Castle. " 
6 



82 CAVERNS AND COLUMNS. 

The impression the Causeway gave me was that of a large 
pier or mole either in ruins or unfinished. It consists, indeed, 
of three piers projecting from the base of the eliif. The pil- 
lars, which are of a dark color, stand so close together that 
they seem to be united ; and with their six, eight, and nine 
sides, bear every appearance of having been hewn out by hu- 
man skill. It is not strange the tradition arose among the 
natives that the ancient giants once began to build a causeway 
across the channel, and were only prevented from completing 
the work by the irresistible valor of the Irish heroes, of whom 
this country has always been so prolific. 

In the neighborhood of the Causeway are two caverns, 
which admit small boats, and recall the famous Grotto of Capri, 
though they are on a much smaller scale. The roofs bear a 
striking resemblance to a gothic aisle, as they form almost a 
regular pointed arch. 

The Giant's Gateway and the Giant's Organ, both com- 
posed of basaltic columns, are seen behind us for some distance 
as we leave the Causeway. 

To the east is Sea-GuU Island, a broad, high rock, which 
takes its name from an immense number of gulls always upon 
or about it. I had often wondered, on ocean voyages, where 
all the gulls came from ; but after visiting that island my won- 
derment ceased. From the thousands of birds there it must 
be at once the Mecca and the Eden of these tireless wanderers. 
The clamor of their cries can be heard at a long distance, and 
is so confused and varying, one might think they were endeav- 
oring to reconcile the irreconcilable differences between the 
Catholics and the Orangemen. 

Not far from Sea-gull Island is the remarkable promontory 
called the Pleaskin, which many persons, myself among the 
number, admire more than the Causeway itself. Its jutting 
rocks and picturesque clifis give it the appearance of a vast 
rambling castle partially battered down after a fierce and pro- 
tracted siege. In the vicinity, perched on a bleak, insulated 
rock, is Dunseverick Castle — a dreary ruin in the midst of an 
impressive and oppressive solitude — once the seat, I was told, 



A CURIOUS BRIDGE. 83^ 

of the powerful and warlike O'Kanes, a very distinguished 
amily, whose descendants, on both sides of the Atlantic, seem 
to be unlimited. The basaltic island of Rathlin, six miles to 
seaward, is crowned with the ruins of a castle in which Robert 
Bruce is said to have taken refuge after his flight from Scot- 
land, nearly six centuries ago. 

Passing Horseshoe Harbor, we see in succession the pecu- 
liar-shaped rocks known as the Lion's Head, Bengore Head, 
the Twins, Four Sisters, the Giant's Pulpit, and the Giant's 
Granny — the last of which, to an active fancy, readily assumes 
the shape of an old woman in stone. 

The road from the Causeway to Ballycastle passes a chasm 
sixty or seventy feet wide, separating the little rocky island of 
Carrick-a-Rede from the mainland. Over this cavern, more 
than a hundred feet above the sea, is a foot-bridge formed of 
two cables about four feet apart, to which rude planks are 
lashed, with hand-ropes at the sides. I have known nervous 
persons to avoid making the passage of this bridge, so slight 
and insecure does it seem, particularly when the wind, very 
apt to blow thereabouts in violent gusts, sways the rude struc- 
ture irregularly, and even violently. There is really no dan- 
ger, however, as I found by experience, and as I might have 
learned by observing the fishermen and peasants of the neigh- 
borhood, who cross and recross at all hours of the day and 
night, whatever the weather, often bearing burdens much 
larger and heavier than themselves. 

]^ear Ballycastle are the ruins of a fortress built by 
M'Donnell of Dunluce, as the tradition runs, more than two 
centuries ago. The fortress is on the summit of a high, rocky 
promontory overlooking the sea, and must have been very 
strong, both for o:^ensive and defensive purposes, in the wild 
and warlike days when it obtained its renown. 

All the north coast is grand, gloomy, and picturesque, 
abounding in beethng promontories, rugged cliffs, and rocky 
bays, which would furnish excellent means of escape for smug- 
glers or pirates who understood the peculiarities of that dan- 
gerous coast. 



84 LONDONDERRY. 

The village of Cushendall, a few miles south of Tor Head, 
tradition reports to be the birthplace of Ossian, upon whose 
actual existence many of the Irish insist, showing exceeding 
impatience and irritability toward any one who undertakes to 
prove to them, historically and logically, that the great Gaelic 
Homer, as they style him, was purely a creation of M'Plier- 
son. 

In the ISTorth, no less than in the South of Ireland, I saw 
ruins of tombs, and castles, and churches that were associated 
with the nam^s of famous heroes, and warriors, and saints I 
had never heard of. I was frequently told that I should make 
myself better acquainted with Irish history — something I have 
been trying to do for many years. The few histories of that 
peculiar country, which I have found, were so much like a com- 
bination of the "Chronicles of the Cid" and the "Adventures 
of Ainadis of Gaul," that I could not distinguish facts or 
truths in such a twilight of fiction. I am afraid, too, that I 
lack the faith and enthusiasm necessary to a proper interpreta- 
tion of the multitudinous les^ends with which the land is sat- 
urated. If any one wishes to know how hopelessly ignorant 
he is of the most extraordinary characters and events of the 
world, he should go to Ireland. 

Londonderry, or Derry, as it is called over there, disap- 
pointed me, as it disappoints most persons, by reason of its 
activity and advancement. I had expected to find it an old 
and long-ago finished town, into which the spirit of progress 
had not entered. I supposed it something like Chester or 
Carlisle in England — interesting from its past history rather 
th^n from any relation it bore to the present or the futm^e. I 
had quite forgotten its modern growth, and thought only of 
the old town within the walls which withstood the memorable 
siege of the forces of James II. Of late years it has improved 
very rapidly, the present population being little less than 
thirty thousand. Though a small place at the time of the fa- 
mous siege, the then residents of Derry must have been ex- 
tremely prolific — a natural inference from the fact that their 
descendants are to be found almost everywhere, and in partic- 



GUNPOWDER EXPLOSION. 85 

ular abundance in our own country. In any of the States, 
north, south, east, or west, I have hardly met any one of 
Scotch-Irish extraction who has not told me some of his an- 
cestors fought and displayed great heroism at Londonderry. I 
forget the number of casualties on the side of the defenders ; 
but they must have been few, inasmuch as so many survivors 
seem to have given their time and energy to the benefit of 
posterity. Derry's situation, on a steep hiU, not unlike that 
of Lisbon, is striking and picturesque from the right bank 
of the river (Foyle), though its abrupt ascents make riding 
tedious, and walking an exercise too energetic for quiet enjoy- 
ment. There, as everywhere else in Ireland, I heard a great 
deal of the antiquity of the town, an Augustinian abbey hav- 
ing been founded on the summit of the hill, more than twelve 
centuries ago, by a saintly architect called Columba. 

In the sixteenth century, Derry was made a military sta- 
tion ; but a terrific explosion of gunpowder destroyed both 
the fort and the town, and nearly everybody in them, and so 
filled the Adcinity with horror that it was completely aban- 
doned for more than forty years. Derry had just begun to 
prosper in a rehabilitated state, when one of those amiable and 
apocryphal gentlemen, fOr whom that region has been remark- 
able — he was of the fertile O'Doherty family — took possession 
of the fortifications and the town, reduced them to ashes, and 
butchered both the soldiers and the inliabitants, lest history 
might do him wrong by charging him with an ungenerous dis- 
crimination. 

The old walls of Derry still remain, and, like those Of 
York, have been converted into a promenade. The gates, de- 
stroyed at the siege of 1689, have been rebuilt, and the one 
on the site of that from which the heroic garrison made its 
first sortie is a triumphal arch in commemoration of the event, 
and bears the name of the Bishop's Gate. A Doric column, 
surmoimted by a statue of the Rev. George "W^alker, cele- 
brated for his defence of the town at the time of the siege, 
was erected in 1828, at a cost of £4,200. In the centre of the 
city is the Diamond, a square from which the principal streets 



86 CRUMBLING RUINS. 



run at right angles toward the ancient gates. The Episcopal 
Palace stands where the old abbey is presumed to have been. 
The long, narrow bridge over the Foyle, on the same plan as 
the bridges at "Waterford and "Wexlbrd, is the work of an 
American architect named Cox, who also constructed the oth- 
ers. The scenery about Derry is pleasant enough, though not 
impressive. The Yale of Faughan makes pretensions to pic- 
torial beauty, but the hills that form it are bleak, and the river 
flowing through it has little to awaken admiration. 

Going south, you pass through Drogheda, an ancient city 
with numerous ruins, more interesting to the professional anti- 
quary than to the j^oco-curante traveller. It boasts of the re- 
mains of an Augustinian priory — founded by St. Patrick, of 
course — a Carmelite convent of the reign of Edward L, a 
graceful tower of a Dominican abbey, and various ecclesiastic 
remains covered with ivy, tradition, and superstition. 

I was urged to visit what were asserted to be the magnifi- 
cent ruins at Mellifont and Monasterboise, but I unhesitatingly 
declined. There are throughout the country so many crum- 
bling priories, shattered abbeys, mouldy round towers, each 
having its long and tedious story of stereotyped saints and 
wonderful warriors, all of whom seem to have been native kings, 
that I confess I grew rather weary of them. 

My memory of all I heard in and about Drogheda is 
rather confused ; but, if I remember rightly, it was something 
of a town before Damascus was dreamed of. Antiquity, I 
repeat, is a striking peculiarity of every place in Ireland, which 
is represented to have been great and glorious before any other 
region was known. So overwhelmingly in love are the Hiber- 
nians with their country, that I fancy in their secret hearts 
they believe it had an immortal history before the external 
and rather supei-fluous entity knoAvn as the Earth was created. 
It sounds like a jest, but I have actually been told by sons of 
the soil that greater poems than the "Iliad" or "Odyssey" 
were sung in the streets of their forgotten cities long before 
the era supposed to have given birth to Homer. 

The Drogheda of to-day is wedded to fact and prose. It 



BIRTHPLACE OF WELLINGTON. 87 

* 

has numerous manufactories, and not a few tanneries, brew- 
eries, distilleries, and soap-works, the aroma from the last of 
which is neither classic nor salubrious. 

I was persuaded to make an excursion to the battle-ground 
where William III. and the dethroned monarch James settled 
their dispute. A very voluble person gave me a glowing de- 
scription of the fight, which differed materially from the his- 
toric accounts I had read. I understood him to say he was 
there himself; but as the battle was fought in 1690, and as he 
did not look to be more than one hundred and forty years old, 
I suppose that I failed to comprehend his dialect. One thing, 
however, I recall distinctly — that of all the English, Dutch, 
Flemish, French, Scotch, and Irish soldiers who were present, 
the Irish did all the hard, indeed, the only creditable fighting. 
James was beaten, somehow, but it was because he failed to 
take the counsel of his Celtic adherents. At least, I was so 
informed by my cicerone, and I felt unwilling to doubt the 
authority of an individual so supernaturally learned. 

To those interested in localities associated with eminent 
men it may be worth while to visit Dangan Castle, near Trim, 
the early home, and, as many assert, the birthplace of Arthur 
Wellesley, Duke of Wellington. The Irish feel great satisfac- 
tion in claiming Wellington, and not infrequently say that, if 
it had not been for one of their countrymen, Napoleon Bona- 
parte would have obliterated England from the map of Europe. 

The Castle is a massive, inharmonious, gloomy structure, 
and the bedroom reputed to have been occupied by the Duke 
is cheerless and dreary enough to have given him the night- 
mare. There was nothing interesting or lovable in his char- 
aicter : he was simply strong, stubborn, and dutiful ; and if he 
remained very long in that old pile, it would not be strange 
if some of its coldness and its shadow crept into his inflexible 
soul. 



CHAPTEE X. 



IRELAND. 




ONNEMARA — meaning, in native Irish, bays 
of tlie ocean, as I have been informed (I 
have never donbted anything told me on the 
Green Isle)— is on the west coast, a district 
abont thirty miles long, and eighteen to twenty wide. 
It is easy of access from Galway, though to penetrate 
it one must surrender the railway trains, and entrust 
himself to cars. With their aid he can see most of 
the scenery in three or four, or at most six days, with 
time for a fair amount of pedestrianism — something of a task 
in that wild region. 'Connemara abounds in lakes, mountains, 
rivers, torrents, pools, rugged ridges, and brown moorlands, 
covered with bog and heath flowers. It is a favorite resort of 
tourists, who believe it different from anything else in the 
island. There is such a savageness in the district as one might 
expect to find at ,the erids of the earth, and the goats and 
tawny children you find there appear quite Arcadian. The 
scattered inhabitants are primitive enough to have pleased 
J ean Jacques. They have rarely been twenty miles away from 
the spot in which they were born, and have no knowledge of 
any country except Ireland, which, in common with many of 
the more cultivated class, they think the principal part of the 
globe. 

I fancied, in such a remote and barren region, I might have 
gotten beyond the wonder-workings of the historic O's. But 
I erred egregiously. The O's first applied their initial to the 
ownership of the entire country, and then proceeded to aston- 
ish nature with their performances, as if by regular contract. 



A GYPSY CAMP. 



89 



The ancient seat of the O'Flahertys is declared to be near 
Moycullen ; and not far from Ballinrobe, on an island in Lough 
Mark, I was forced to listen to a well-worn tale of the regal 
O'Connors— wliat wonld I not have given to see an Irishman 
without a drop of royal blood in his veins !— and their occupa- 
tion, in the fifteenth century, of a ruined castle before me. 'On 
Clare Island, in Clew Bay, a crumbling tower, I was assured, 
indicated the stronghold of Grace O'Malley, who, though 
feminine, slaughtered her foes with magnificent ferocity. She 
was such a fury and fighter, that I think I have seen some of 
her descendants of* the same sex in this country. 

Cony Abbey was mentioned as the place where Eoderick 
O'Connor, the last of the Irish kings, retired, and died in seclu- 
sion.^ That was very consolatory to me ; for I had supposed 
the line to be endless, and that I should never hear the last of 
them. I was right. In less than a week after I stated to a 
citizen of Limerick that Eoderick O'Connor was the final 
Milesian gentleman who wore a crown ; and he told me I was 
seriously at fault; that the O'Connors never were royal; that 
the only real kings of Ireland were O'Donohues. As he bore 
that name himself, I supposed he knew, and let the subject 
drop. 

If there be anything in which I feel my total imbecility, it 
is in respect to Irish history. Those wdio wish to believe that 
it is a thing of unvarying facts, must never cross the Shannon, 
or even behold the LifFey. 

While rambling near Bray, I heard of a gypsy camp in the 
neighborhood. It was the first that had been in the country 
for many years, and was an object of great interest to the 
superstitious peasantry, who pay liberally out of their slender 
means to have their fortunes told. All persons in wretched 
circumstances are anxious to learn something of the future, 
and adversity long continued has an influence favorable to 
superstition. I had been told much of the beauty of the wo- 
men and their spiritual insight, and never having visited any of 
the Zingara tribe in Ireland, I wished to see if they followed 
the same plan of deception as in England and Spain. 



90 MAKING A WISE. 

I engaged a car and was driven to the camp, composed of 
abouf fifty men, women, and children, who lived by dealing in 
horses, making baskets and gewgaws, and telling fortmies. 
While walking among the tents and wagons I was noticed by 
her they called their Queen. She invited me into her tent, and, 
sitting down on the straw, requested me to do the same. She 
then urged me to have my past and future revealed. 

With excessive practicality I asked her price. 

" Half a crown for generalities, and a crown for particu- 
lars," was her answer. 

Telling her I would have half a crown'^ worth, she unbut- 
toned my glove, drew it off, gazed intently at the palm of my 
hand, and began : 

" You have never done any hard work " (I correct her Eng- 
lish as I go along) ; " but you have led an easy life. You have, 
I think, obtained y^our wealth from your wife. You are mar- 
ried, are you not ? " 

" Of course," I responded. 

'• I knew it ; I see the lines of wedlock in your hand. You 
have had more than one wife ; is it not so ? " 

" Oh, yes, a dozen." 

"You are English, aren't you?" 

" I did not come here to answer questions ; but I'll tell you 
that I am a Hindoo, educated at Gottingen, and a Florentine 
by adoption." 

That was Chaldaic to her, and she fell into generalities : 

" You won't break your heart about women, fond as you 
are of marrying them. Put a gold coin into your hand and 
make a wish." 

I dropped a half-crown there, and she took it out. " You 
will not have your wish before the end of the next year." (I 
had wished I could get a good breakfast in Ireland.) " You 
will be called upon to sign a paper on the 10th of the coming 
month, and if you'll give me another half-crown, I'll tell you 
whether to do it or not." 

" You are right," I responded. " That will be my thir- 
teenth marriage contract. I intend to sign it, by all means ; 



IRISH FAIsm 91 

for marriage with wealthy women is the best thing in the 
world to keep a man in funds." 

"The signature will decide your fate. Can I have the 
other half-crown ? " 

" Oh, noj I have had information enough." 

"I see, too," continued the gypsy, "you have travelled." 

" Yes, too far to be deceived by shallow tricks." 

" Haven't I told you the truth ? " 

" Not a syllable. I'll tell your fortune for nothing if you 
like, and make far better guesses than yours." 

" I don't want you to. "What countryman are you ? I'd 
like to know something of your history, if I haven't told it." 

" Some other time maybe I'll take you into my confidence 
but now I'm in haste, for I am choking for some water." 

The Grypsy Queen was not ill-looking, having the usual 
black eyes and hair and swarthy complexion ; but it would 
have been difiicult to invest her with romance or sentiment, 
for she could not speak her native language, and elegance was 
not among her virtues. 

I recalled the scene from " Contarini Fleming," where the 
precocious youth kissed the red lij^s and turned away. I re- 
peated mentally the pretty verses of Bailey : 

" My gypsy maid, my gypsy maid, 
I bless and curse the day — " 

But what's the use of a man of taste trying to become in- 
terested in any woman who drops her A's and aspirates her 
vowels ? 

Fairs in Ireland are not what they once were. The palmy 
days of Donnybrook, with its head-breaking and general 
"shindies," have departed, and seem to be regarded by a 
large part of the peasantry of Munster and Leinster as the 
surest indications of the national decay. The jjeople, as they 
really are, are still seen to the best advantage at the county 
fairs, which are the gala-days of the commonalty. The great- 
est interest is taken in them. Everybody goes to the fairs ; 
and it is not unusual for the peasantry to walk twenty -five or 



92 ^LIMERICK. 

thirty miles for tlie pleasure of being present. Tliey meet 
there their friends and acquaintances, many of whom they see 
nowhere else ; so that a fair is a democratic reunion of all per- 
sons who have anything in common. The high animal spirits 
of the Irish are strikingly revealed at these annual gatherings. 
They chat and laugh, dance and drink, make love and make 
merry, not omitting a little fighting — of course for, the sake of 
variety — with the most restless and perfect abandon. An Irish 
peasant, with a shilling in his pocket, and two or three drinks 
under his jacket, smoking a pipe before the booth of a fair, 
seems to be the lightest-hearted, most devil-may-care creature 
on the planet. 

From Galway to Limerick is a short ride. Limerick, with 
its 55,000 souls, ranks as the fourth Irish city in population 
and importance, and has of late years improved materially. 
King John's Castle, built by that monarch as a defence against 
the Irish, has seven massive towers connected by walls of im- 
mense thickness, and bears traces of the hard sieges it has sus- 
tained. The cathedral is noted for its sweet-toned peal of bells, 
of which a story is told. The bells were cast by an Italian, and 
placed in the campanile of a convent in Florence. He had put 
his heart into the work, and believed his bells tb.e most melodious 
in the world. During the wars between Francis I. and Charles 
V. he lost all his sons, and his wife soon after dying from excess 
of grief, the Italian went to Mantua, and during liis abs^ence 
the bells were carried off. When he returned and found them 
gone he was heart-broken, for they were his only consolation. 
He determined to wander over the earth until he recovered 
them ; and so, staff in hand, he set out upon his almost hope- 
less pilgrimage. One summer day, after sunset, in 1559, as 
the tale is told, a gray-haired man was seen in a boat on the 
Shannon. Listless and despondent, he took no notice of any- 
thing until the bells of the cathedral pealed out on tlie soft 
evening air. He was young again." He recognized his long- 
lost and long-sought bells ; and, lifting his hands in gratitude 
to Heaven, his soul went forth with a prayer on his lips. 

Limerick, as every one knows, is famous for its lace — a fact 



REMimSCENCES OF LOLA MONTEZ. 93 

every stranger discovers from the constant importunities to 
buy, whether in or out of doors. It is cheap, but being made 
of cotton, it is not liked in this country, and bears no com- 
parison to the delicate linen fabrics of France and Belgium. 
They say there that it has often been exported, returned from 
MecliHn, and sold at four times the price it originally cost at 
home — a good but highly improbable story. 

Limerick enjoys with Dublin the reputation of having the 
prettiest women in Ireland. It would not be supposed, from 
most of the specimens we see here, that beauty was given in 
any dangerous degree to the daughters of Erin; but among 
the cultivated and better classes in Leinster and Connaught 
many of the women have a delicacy and regularity of feature 
that make good their claim to personal loveliness. IS^ot a few 
of the Irish of the opposite sex look like Italians or Spaniards ; 
but the finest type has large gray or light-hazel eyes, brown 
hair, rather pale complexions, oval faces, and lithe figures, with 
a grace and ^dvacity of manner which, to my mind, are more 
American than foreign. 

Poor Lola Montez was a native of Limerick, with a dash 
of Spanish blood, it is said. Persons still living in that city 
say they remember her girlhood, and speak of her beauty and 
kindness of heart as something not to be forgotten. 

The house in which she was born has been pointed out to 
me — a rather dingy stone building in a narrow street. 

I heard there a different story about her from that usually 
told, and I give it as it came to my ears. Her name was 
Eugenie Moncton, instead of Elizabeth Gilbert. She was the 
illegitimate daughter of a French officer and an' Irish widow 
of position and brilliancy, who became attached to each other 
in Paris. Her mother lived in Dublin, but went to Limerick 
to conceal her condition. The child was given to an honest 
and reputable family to rear as their own, receiving a hberal 
sum for its education and support. At ten the little Eugenie 
was sent to a convent in France, where she displayed remark- 
able precocity, and at thirteen was considered a paragon of 
beauty. At fifteen she had formed a clandestine correspon- 



94 THE LAKES OF KILLARNEY. 

dence with a Spanisli officer, who had seen her while visiting 
his sister at the convent. She eloped with hira to Madrid, 
and, after living as his mistress for a year, was deserted by him. 
She then returned to Paris, where she had numerous liaisons, 
and while travelling in Italy is reported to have fought a duel 
with an Italian Count and wounded him, because he had in- 
sulted her in the street. She had acquired various manly 
accomplishments, especially in the use of arms, and, suiFering 
from the outrage offered her as a woman, she donned mascu- 
line attire the day following, and threw a glass of wine in the 
face of her insulter in one of the fashionable cafes of Milan. 
After various adventures and intrigues, she went upon the 
stage, and as an actress won the heart of the old King of Ba- 
varia. After that her life became well known. Her mother 
lost aU traces of her after her elopement, and tried ill vain to 
find her. She left five thousaild pounds to Eugenie in her 
will, but the sum was never claimed. 

Lola was far from blameless ; but she was badly treated and 
grossly slandered. She was more sinned against than sinning, 
and had good reason for hating men, though she did not hate 
them, who, from the first to the last, betrayed and abused her. 
She had, at difierent periods of her life, large sums of money, 
which she either gave away with a prodigal hand or was rob- 
bed of by designing sharpers. At the close of her checkered 
days, she was so fleeced by men she had benefited and confided 
in, that she died in poverty and want. She now rests in 
Greenwood, with nothing but " Elizabeth Gilbert," inscribed 
on her nnpretending tomb. Few women whom the world calls 
wicked, and society ostracizes, but can trace their first wrong- 
doing to the perfidy of our sex. 

The Lakes of Killarney are the central attraction of Ire- 
land. No one would think of setting foot on the Green Isle 
without " doing " the Lakes. They are to that country, in re^ 
spect of interest, what Paris is to France, or Rome to Italy. 

The common way of seeing Ireland is to land at Queens- 
town, dash by Cork to the Lakes, spend a day there, and then 
whirl through Munster and Leinster to Dublin ; and, after a 



MOUNTAINS IN IRELAND. 95 

few glimpses at the capital, cross the Irish Sea for London. 
Either this or reversing the route, and taking ship at Queens- 
town, bound home. 

Three days at least are needed to visit the Lakes properly, 
and five or six may be well spent upon them. If you have 
made your virgin journey abroad, premeditating a regular tour, 
go to Killarney first, or, at least, before you go over to the 
Continent. The Irish lakes are finer than the Scotch, and im- 
measurably superior to the English ; but after you have become 
acquainted with the lakes of JSTorthern Italy and Switzerland, 
the beautiful bodies of water in County Kerry will be much 
less than your fancy has unaged them. There are three 
lakes of Killarney — the Upper, Middle, and Lower, though the 
second is rarely counted or regarded as distinct from the Low- 
er, Familiarity wdth Como, Maggiore, Geneva, Lucerne, 
Thun, Brienz, Zurich, and the other Continental lakes damp- 
ened any enthusiasm I might have had for those of Kerry. 
Still I did everything that was to be done in and about them 
as faithfully as if I had never seen a bit of water larger than a 
duck-pond. I even ascended Mangerton, Tore, and Carran- 
tual, the last 3,414: feet, being the loftiest mountain in Ireland, 
because it was one of the things laid down. But having long 
before measured all such sensations in Switzerland, and ex- 
hausted them by climbing Mont Blanc, the Hibernian hillocks 
raised no tumult in my breast. I visited the ruins of Aghadoe 
— the usual round tower, the cathedral, and castle (hardly 
worth looking at), and a cave near the entrance of tlie gap, 
declared to be of great interest to archaeologists. As I felt no 
interest in it, and as archaeology is not one of my weaknesses, 
I presume the statement may be true. The roof of the cave 
is formed of large stones inscribed with what are called the 
Ogham characters. They looked to me a good deal like a map 
of Boston ; so that, having been informed they were the written 
language of the Druids, I had no more doubt of the fact than 
I had of most things told me in Ireland. Near by is a solitary 
hostelry, kept by a putative granddaughter of the apocryphal 
Kate Kearney. Kate is reputed to have been extremely loA'^e- 



96 



NATURAL CURIOSITIES. 



ly • but if she were lovely, if slie ever existed, and if tlie 
yo'uno- woman I saw was lier daughter's daughter, the young 
woman is a most striking illustration of the theory that beauty 
is not hereditary. 

The Gap of Dunloe is a narrow gap between MacCrilhcuddy 
Eeeks and the Toomies and Purple Mountain. On each side 
craggy cliffs, composed of large projecting rocks, frown over the 
nan-ow path^vay, as if angry at human intrusion into that wild 
solitude. In the interstices of the rocks grow a few melancholy 
shrubs, which, with the dark ivy and luxuriant heather there- 
about, add to the effect of the landscape. A small, swift 
stream, the Loe, runs the whole length of the glen, expanding 
at different points into pools dignified by the name of lakes. 
The glen is so contracted in one place that the precipitous 
sides llmost shut off the narrow pathway. Just beyond the 
o-ap is the Black Yalley, so called from the shadows thrown 
across it by the Eeeks, and the color given by the peat to the 
lakes which dot it. 

The Upper Lake, though the smallest, is considered by 
many the most beautiful, because it is nearer to the mountains 
than the others, and more studded with islands. A circuitous 
channel, connecting the Upper and Middle lakes is known as 
the Long Eange, and is bordered by some very fine scenery. 
At the entrance is Coleman's Eye, a singular and picturesque 
promontory, and further on a pei-pendicular cliff called the 
Eagle's Nest, so remarkable for its echoes that some of the 
gufdes declare that when you cry out " How do you do ?" the 
echo responds, " Yery well, I thank you, and won't you take 
a drop of whiskey?" The Nest made no such reply to me, 
owing probably to the fact that I had no partiality for the fiery 
liquid the natives are so fond of. 

About a mile beyond is the Old Weir Bridge, an ancient 
stone structure with two arches, through which the boats are 
swiftly carried without use of the oars. Below the bridge is a 
sequestered and charming spot, called the Meeting of the 
Waters (whether named from Wicklow or not I cannot say), 
which Walter Scott praised highly. 



INNISFALLEN ISLAND. 97 

The Middle, sometimes called Tore Lake, is divided from 
the Lower by Dinish and Brickeen islands, and connected with 
it by three narrow channels. It lacks the wildness of the Up- 
per and the pictnresqueness of the Lower Lake ; but its shores 
are magnificently wooded, and toward sunset to row through 
it is dehghtful. The Lower Lake, five miles long (the whole 
length of the lakes is about eleven miles) and three broad in 
the widest part, has thirty islands, the largest of which, Ross, 
contains one hundred and sixty acres. On the island are the 
ruins of Eoss Castle, nearly covered by ivy, built by one of the 
countless O'Donoghues, whose descendants lived there for 
three or four hundred years. The Castle has its inevitable 
legends. One of them is that a member of the O'Donoghue 
family — whether Michael, or Dennis, or Patrick, is not stated 
— awakes from his grave-sleep every seven years, rides over 
the lake at the first flush of dawn on his milk-white steed to 
the Castle, which, the moment he reaches it, is restored by 
magic, and remains as it was in tlie fourteenth century until 
the sun appearing above the woods, returns it to decay. The 
Castle was the last Mimster stronghold surrendered to Crom- 
well. 

]^ot far from Eoss is Innisfallen Island, near the middle of 
the lake. It seems to be covered with an impervious wood ; 
but after landing, I found beyond the leafy screen beautiful 
glades and lawns, embellished by thickets of flowering shrubs, 
clumps of arbutus, and magniflcent trees. Through the open- 
ings of the foliage, I caught glimpses of the lake, its variegated 
shores, and of the mountain peaks, making a panorama of ex- 
ceeding beauty. The lakes have the peculiarity of most of 
those in Europe — winding like a river through the woods and 
mountains, and often so landlocked that it appears impossible 
to advance, no opening even large enough for your little boat 
being anywhere visible. 

Near the village of Cloghreen, two and a half miles from 
Killamey, are the ruins of Muckross Al:)bey, both church and 
monastery being kept in excellent condition by the proprietor 
of the demesne. Some of the kings of Munster — kings must 



98 CASCADES. 

have grown on every bush in Ireland — are said to be buried 
there; but as there were so many of those crowned and 
sceptred gentlemen, I opine it was not thought worth while to 
denote their resting-place. The vault of the McCarthys, how- 
ever, is in the centre of the choir, and marked by a monument 
rudely sculptured. In the midst of the cloister is a very aged 
yew, which I was told is the largest of the kind in Ireland. I 
don't know whether the shilling I paid was for the tree or the 
information, though I suspect that if I had given only a six- 
pence, there would have been larger trees in the country. 

In the vicinity of the lakes are numerous cascades, of which 
the Tore (between the Tore and Mangerton mountains), 
formed by two streams, tumbles over a broken ledge of rocks, 
and is thrown into striking relief by the fir-covered sides of the 
chasm. The other falls are more remarkable for their names, 
such as Derricunnihy and Esknamucky, which, pronounced in 
the vernacular, affected my ear as if I had been shot in the 
head by a bewildered alphabet. 

The annoyances and importunities from beggars, pipers, 
guides, donkey-drivers, and vendors of everything you don't 
want, mar very seriously the pleasure of a visit to Killamey. 
No place approaches it in power of excessive boredom in aU 
Europe, except the Bernese Oberland. The women, who are 
bent upon selling arbutus-wood and bog-oak ornaments, Limer- 
ick lace and mountain dew (goat's milk and whiskey), are the 
worst of all the tormentors. They follow you more devotedly 
than Ruth did !N"aomi, and stick to you like poverty to a poet. 
The chroniclers of the country take pains to assure travellers 
that those wild Irish girls are as impregnable in continence as 
they are obnoxious in perseverance; and I am confident no 
tourist of taste would seek to disprove the promises made for 
them. 



CHAPTEK XI. 



DUBLIN. 




"F I had not understood the enthusiasm of the 
Milesian mind, and the radiant colors with which 
it invests all it loves, I should have expected to 
find in Dublin a city of wondrous splendor 
and inexpressible charm. How often have I 
listened to eulogies of the Irish capital from the lips 
of its rhetorical sons and daughters, until, taking coun- 
sel of my fancy, instead of my reason, it shone upon me 
from afar, like a divine dwelling-place, whither weary 
and beauty-starved souls might be permitted, as a recompense 
for sufferings past, to journey and be blessed ! 

It is almost superfluous to state that any such dazzling pre- 
conceptions failed to be realized on the banks of the Liffey. 

Though Dublin is neither a commercial nor a manufactur- 
ing city, its buildings have that worn and dingy look which 
marks towns entirely given over to trade. The Liffey — its full 
name is Anna Liffey — divides the city into nearly equal parts, 
is spanned by eight homely bridges, and is little more inviting 
or fragrant than a Dutch canal. At low tide the river reveals 
the same lamentable lack of water that distinguishes the Arno 
in summer, and during the warm months affects the atmos- 
phere in a way that but faintly recalls the orange groyes of 
Sicily, or the rose gardens of Cashmere. 

Dublin has large private wealth, but at the same time more 
poverty in proportion to its population than any city in the 
United Kingdom. Out of nearly 300,000 inhabitants, one 
eighth are said to be paupers, and one quarter to be chronic 



100 COMMERCIAL STAGNATIO^T 

sufferers from extreme poverty. The Irish are too light- 
hearted and improvident to provide for the future ; yet most 
of them are glad to work when they have the opportunity. 
But there is no employment for a large number of the people, 
who, with a sort of feline instinct, attach themselves to places 
regardless of surroundings. And then their fondness for rela- 
tives and friends is such that nothing but the extremest need 
and the prospect of an early funeral will drive them from the 
familiar scenes which appear to have become endeared to them 
only through suffering. 

The passage of the Union Act is thought to have injured 
Dublin beyond recovery, by depriving it of a resident nobility, 
a large body of influential commoners, and all the dignity and 
importance of a city at once the seat of government and the 
capital of an independent kingdom. The spaciousness of the 
Custom-house seems to show this ; for when it was begun, in 
1781, magnificent ideas were entertained of the future pros- 
perity, financial and commercial, of the country. 

Unfortunately, Dublin has very little of the spirit of pub- 
lic enterprise which grows out of material prosperity and faith 
in the future. One hears complaints everywhere of mercan- 
tile dulness and commercial stagnation, and there seems no 
hope of a change for the better. The capital grows, it is said ; 
but rather, I suspect, by the force that inheres in large cities, 
than by any of the ordinary causes contributing to prosperity. 
The manufacture of poplin, almost the only one the city has 
left, has shown some symptoms of revival recently, but bears 
no comparison to what it once was, having at its height, it 
is stated, given employment to thirty thousand persons. 

Dublin is famous for its hospitality, and deservedly. I 
question if any city on the globe is a more cordial and liberal 
entertainer. Those of its citizens who are in good circum- 
stances regard hospitality as one of the highest of social vir- 
tues. They feel a generous rivalry in outdoing each other in 
the cause, and they interpret literally the phrase, that one can- 
not do enough for his friends. 

"We are accustomed to regard hospitality from a sentimental 



DESTITUTION OF ITS PEOPLE. 101 

point of view ; but I am afraid sober reason will compel ns to 
admit that it springs from a species of refined selfishness. To 
be hospitable, we must have large leism-e and abundant means, 
a certain amount of vanity and love of approbation. These 
are even more necessary than sympathy, warmth of feeling, and 
kindness of heart. The Dublinites possess all of these. There 
is no particular demand upon then* time, and no duty is so se- 
rious that it cannot be set aside in friendship's service. They 
experience unalloyed pleasure in contributing to the pleasure 
of others, and have the happy mixture of self-consciousness 
and benevolence that finds gratification in the flattered and 
enlightened egotism which passes in the world under the name 
of gratitude. Most strangers who make acquaintances in Dub- 
lin, whatever their first impression of the city, go away 
with the conviction that it is delightful. They see the place 
through the pleasant people they have met, and their remem- 
brance of manifold favors puts a glamour on their eyes. I had 
heard so much of the hospitality of the town, that, having a 
fondness for seeing and doing things alone, and feeling an in- 
clination not to spend more than a year in Ireland, I was 
afraid to deliver the letters of introduction with which I had 
been kindly furnished. 

I don't think I have ever witnessed such destitution and 
poverty as in the southwest portion of the city, known as the 
Liberties, particularly in the neighborhood of St. Patrick's 
Cathedral. I had grown accustomed to wretchedness and 
squalor by roaming about Blackwall and other such localities 
in London, but I found that Patrick street. Black lane, and 
other miserable and feculent quarters of the Irish capital could 
not be visited without an instinctive shrinking and shudder. 
Such heaps of rags, such excessive filth, such complete sur- 
render to the lowest animalism, such absolute abandonment of 
all ambition and aspiration, I have never observed in the hu- 
man species. The Five Points and St. Giles's in their 
worst days were cheerful, even inviting, compared to the over- 
whelmingly repulsive want and misery of Dublin's outcasts. 
The chief cause of their woe is, of course, intemperance — the 



102 DUBLIN UNIVERSITY. 

prolific parent at once of poverty and crime, especially in 
Southern Ireland. Beside decayed and noisome habitations, 
in which body and mind suffocate, is the ever-present spirit- 
shop, where hideous creatures, no longer men and women, 
buy, in hope of oblivion, new depravity and deeper damnation. 

I should imagine such wretches would be as desperate in 
mind as in circumstances; but they are not. They indulge in 
chaff and humor, that seem as incongruous as dance-music in a 
charnel-house. This inextinguishable elasticity of mind under 
the most distressing and depressing phases is a phenomenon 
of the Irish character I am unable to understand. "With 
superabundant causes for losing faith in themselves and every- 
body else, with quite enough to insure the ruin of every earthly 
expectation, the Irish are, probably, as contented a nation as any 
on the sphere. Nothing damps their ardor; nothing chills 
their spirit ; nothing can take away their unconquerable hope. 
Behind Fortune's darkest frown they detect a smile, and when 
her buffets strike them to the earth, they leap up jubilant, and 
instinctively fall into the dancing of a jig. Life at its darkest 
is a very rigadoon to them. When other people drown and 
hang themselves, the mercurial Hibernian borrows a pipe, 
whistles defiance at fate, and believes undoubtingly in a bright- 
er to-morrow. I have noticed more genuine gayety and over- 
bubbling enjoyment among a dozen Irishmen, without a penny 
in their pockets, or the prospect of getting one, than in a com- 
pany of rarely fortunate Americans, with a broad background 
of blessings, who labored under the delusion that they were 
supremely happy. 

Dublin University, or Trinity College, proved to me the 
pleasantest and most interesting object in the city. The build- 
ings are rambling and inharmonious ; but they are well pre- 
served ; and the park and grounds are handsomely and taste- 
fully laid out. The University was founded by Queen Eliza- 
beth as early as 1591, and still has a wide i*eputation as a seat 
of learning, though it has materially declined during the pres- 
ent century. It has been much impressed upon my mind 
from the fact that I have never known a freshly imported Irish- 



ITS BUILDINGS. ' 103 

4 

man seeking a journalistic position in New York, who had not 
graduated there with the highest honors. Indeed, two of the 
peculiarities that almost invariably mark the expatriated Hi- 
bernian who understands the mysteries of his own autograph, 
are, so far as my observation extends, that he has received his 
degree at Trinity, and been on the staff of the London Times. 
Presuming that the University, among other branches, in- 
structs its students in the art of writing tolerable English, and 
holds no prejudice against beginning the name of the Deity 
with what printers term an upper-case letter, 1 have some- 
times been inclined to doubt the correctness of the memory 
of the self-declared alumni of the Dublin University. But on 
reflection, I have concluded that, as often happens in colleges, 
so much time may have been devoted to advanced studies that 
the rudiments have been either forgotten or neglected. 

The buildings of Trinity consist of three spacious quad- 
rangles, comprising library, museum, observatory, printing- 
ofiice, and the quarters of the students, numbering, during the 
past year, fifteen or sixteen hundred. The library has a num- 
ber of valuable manuscripts ; among others were pointed out 
to me a copy of the Brehon Laws and the Book of Kells (what- 
ever they may be), and not a few of questionable authenticity. 
In the museum is a harp purporting to have been the property 
of Brian Boru or Boroihme, the most famed of the native 
kings — a thorough Drawcansir in prowess — from whom seven 
eighths of all the Irish now living are lineally descended. 
Brian was a most extraordinary warrior, altogether superior 
to Alexander, or Caesar, or Napoleon, and no doubt, but for a 
mortal wound at Clontarf, nearly eleven centuries ago, would 
have conquered the whole of the then known world. 

St. Patrick's Cathedral, for its present condition, is in- 
debted to the liberality of the wealthy brewer Guinness, who 
is reported to have spent nearly £200,000 in its restoration. 
In the choir, where* hang the tattered banners of the Knights 
of St. Patrick, are the tombs of Jonathan Swift and Hester 
Johnson, the tender-souled and deeply wronged Stella, whom 
the ecclesiastic brute made famous in his verse. It was like 



104 



NELSON MONUMENT. 



Swift, while writing of her affectionately, to treat her shame- 
fully. His relations to Stella and Yanessa, and other good 
but over-sentimental creatures, seem to corroborate the cynical 
notion that the worse men treat women, the better they 
are loved. The .present church is said to occupy the site 
of the ancient one, where the always-to-be-heard-of St. Pat- 
rick preached to the citizens. There, we are told, pagan 
rites were performed, and there, too, was the well from 
which the saint baptized the king and his newly converted 
subjects. The service held in St. Patrick's has long been 
that of the Established Church; but still the ignorant and 

superstitious Catholics, who 
dwell in extreme squalor and 
poverty in the immediate 
neighborhood, regard the spot 
with utmost reverence, and 
mourn its "desecration" much 
more than any misfortune of 
their own. They gaze upon 
the structure as they pass it, 
with an eye of dissatisfaction, 
and, no doubt, long for the 
power to raze it to the ground, 
or, at least, put an end to its 
lieretical use. 

The principal thoroughfare, 
Sackville street, is broad, but 
not imposing, owing to an 
architectm-al lack of corre- 
spondence with what must 
Jiave been its original plan of laying out. It is quite short, 
and will appear to more advantage when the Carlisle bridge, 
connecting it with Westmoreland street, is replaced with a 
new and finer one, and such improvements are made as will 
render Grafton, Westmoreland, and Sackville a uniform and 
■continuous thoroughfare. 

The Nelson column, almost the only object that fixes the 




NELSON MONUMENT. 



FIGETING FOR FLEASXJRE. 105 

eye in Sackville street, is a granite shaft, one hundred and 
twenty feet high without the statue surmounting it, and ugly 
enough to have been made and erected in N'ew York. 

The much-praised public buildings of the city, the Univer- 
sity, the Bank of Ireland, the Four Courts, the Castle, the Na- 
tional Gallery, St. Patrick's Cathedral, Christ Church, the 
General Post-office, and others, are much inferior to their 
reputation, and may very soon be disposed of. 

Few readers of Irish novels but have made acquaintance with 
the Phoenix (or, as it is called by the ordinary autochthones, Pha- 
neex) Park, which is to Dublin what the Common was to Bos- 
ton, or the Central Park is to New York. Lever and Lover 
have introduced the Phoenix into so many of their romances 
that it is difficult to conceive how an Irish story, having any 
relation to society, could be completed without its assistance. 
"When duelling was the fashion, hot-blooded Hibernians had 
their hostile meetings there, and numerous localities are pointed 
out where hair-triggers were brought into requisition. It is 
stated that one, two, and even three duels a week were not un- 
common in the park, during a long period of years. The 
provocation was usually given over wine at night, and such 
was the testy temper of the gentlemen of the time, that they 
were never satisfied to take breakfast before they had ex- 
changed shots. A more pugnacious race than the Irish never 
lived ; and, forty or fifty years ago, a man was hardly consid- 
ered a genuine gentleman and a worthy member of fashionable 
society, who had not been " out " at least once. In that day, 
to be a three-bottle man, and to have been a principal in sev- 
eral duels, was a badge of distinction which the possession of 
all the virtues and the practice of every benevolence would 
not have conferred. The Irish have always seemed to me to 
be the only people who really enjoyed fighting. Other nations 
fight on principle, from pride, and from various causes antag- 
onistic to inclination ; but the Hibernians apj)ear to have a nat- 
ural love for physical as well as mental strife. They are like 
the irascible French colonel in the play, whose affection was 
best secured by a passage at arms. 



106 FHCEKIX PARK. 

The Phoenix Park is really an ornament to Dublin, few 
cities having so fine an expanse of wood and water, hill and 
dale ; and its seventeen or eighteen hundred acres have been 
so carefully cultivated and adorned, that it deserves to be con- 
sidered one of the noblest specimens of public grounds in the 
British Isles. The sick and invalid soldiers of the Royal In- 
firmary may be seen on fine days, crawling or limping about 
in the sunshine, as you enter the principal gates from Park- 
gate street, or stopping to look at the Wellington Monument 
opposite, which has been materially improved of late, without 
redemption, however, from original deformities. The bas- 
reliefs at the base, commemorating the siege of Seringapatam, 
by Kirk, the battle of Waterloo, by Farrell, and the signing 
of Catholic Emancipation, are its best features, and not with- 
out credit, artistically. The park receives its name from a 
column of thirty feet, surmounted by a phoenix, which was 
erected by the Earl of Chestei-field, while occupying the posi- 
tion of Lord Lieutenant. On what is known as the " Fifteen 
Acres," the reviews and sham-fights are held, which the Dub- 
linites, both of high and low degree, profoundly delight in. 
The town seems to empty itself on such occasions, which are 
thorough gala days. The fashion, the wealth, and the culture, 
no less than the humility, the poverty, and the ignorance, of 
the capital, go there then in an indiscriminate crowd ; and 
jewelled fingers and embroidered handkerchiefs are commin- 
gled with soiled hands and nondescript head-coverings after 
the manner of an ideal democracy. 

From the Knockmaroon gate an excellent view is had of 
the Lififey, flowing at the foot of high and fertile slopes, devo- 
ted to the cultivation of strawberries ; and the public road 
winding along the river, and studded with strawberry stalls 
and strawberry markets. During the season, a walk or ride 
or drive to that quarter, to take tea, hot cake, and strawber- 
ries, is one of the established recreations and recognized prop- 
er things to do among the best people of Dublin. But a visit 
to the " Beds," as they are called, is not confined to the fash- 
ionable. Eveiy one who can raise two or three shillings, 



NATIONAL CONVEYANCES. 



107 



mounts a jaunting-car, that peculiar veliicle of Ireland, and 
drives there after sundown in the exuberant spirits characteris- 
tic of the nation. The jaunting-car, which seems to strangers 
so awkward and grotesque, is well adapted to the country, and 
typifies the character of the people. Such a rumbling, tumb- 
ling, breakneck means of transportation could not have been 
conceived anywhere else. Its driver, perched upon a narrow 
seat in front, like a ruminating bird upon the sole limb of a 
blasted tree — its two wheels, the seats on the sides directly 
over them — its rattling, bouncing motion, as inimical to grav- 
ity as to dyspepsia, present a comical and contagiously exhil- 
arating spectacle that it is hard to resist. To retain either 
dignity or serious reflection while riding about in that style 




PEGGY ON HER LOW-BACK CAB. 



is simply impossible. The Archbishop of Canterbury him- 
self, the impersonation of consequential solemnity, would re- 
lax, and even become jocose after a few miles of such grotesque 



108 



GLASNEVm CEMEtEEY. 



travelling. On a jaunting-car, a man is shaken up mentally 
as well as corporeally, and catches the spirit of merriment 
and fun that forms so great a part of the Hibernian natm-e. 
It is not strange the people bear adversity so lightly, and jest 
and dance and sing in the midst of penury, and in the face of 
starvation, when they go bobbing and bounding through life 
on the side of a jaunting-car. 

The use of the " low-backed car," upon which Peggy rode 
so successfully to market, in the well-known and popular Irish 
song, is confined exclusively to the Green Isle. 

Glasnevin, in the northern suburbs, is an attractive ceme- 
tery, because it is the burial-place of Hogan the sculptor, Cur- 
ran, O'Connell, and many other celebrated Irishmen. Curran's 

tomb, in the form of a sar- 



cophagus, is a copy of an an- 
cient monument, and O'Con- 
uell's is surmounted by a 
column one hundred and 
seventy feet high, after the 
laodel of the famous round 
towers on the coast of Ire- 
land, whose use and purpose 
have so sorely puzzled anti- 
(juarians. Several executed 
Fenians lie there, Avith col- 
ujnns raised to their memory 
by those who regard them in 
the light of martyrs. I have 
\ seen much emotion displayed 
tJby persons who visited the 
' cemetery only to contemplate 
MONUMENT TO DANIEL o coNNELL. tlio Feiiiau mouutaius, and 

who repeated the "God bless Ireland" inscribed upon the 

shafts, with a fervor indicating the belief that the invocation 

would be one day answered. 

The theatre furnishes opportunity for the study of some 

of the peculiar traits of Irish character, the minor theatres and 




DUBLIN THEATRES. 109 

the gallery being the best for the purpose, as cultivated and 
successful persons are usually conventional and uniform in 
conduct all the world over. 

I went to the play-house, whenever convenient, in all 
the cities large enough to support one, and never neglected 
during the evening to ascend to the region of the gods. The 
common people have little liking for what is knowTi as the legit- 
imate drama ; but they fairly revel in sensational melodrama, 
particularly where their impossible countrymen, with whom our 
stage has made us so familiar, perform prodigies of absurdity 
and valor. Such productions reveal their intense, impressible, 
and emotional nature in a very remarkable way. The mimic 
show is like a reality to them, and they display as much feel- 
ing over the counterfeited passions as if they were burning in- 
spirations. 

The Irish drama there is in no manner different from what 
it is here. It has the same brave, blundering, swaggering, 
joking, gallant, ultra-patriotic heroes, who love women and 
the bottle as they detest tyranny and the Saxon, and who al- 
ways extricate themselves at the end from innumerable diffi- 
culties, and declaim about the glory of Ireland as the curtain 
descends to the music of some national air. There is always, 
of course, the unvarying British spy, whom the Irish are per- 
petually discovering in their most secret councils, and in all 
their convocations, wherever their lot may be cast. He turns 
up as regularly on the Cork, Dublin, and Limerick stage as he 
does in ward meetings and Fenian circles on this side of the 
Atlantic. Whenever he appears, he is hissed and hooted at as 
if he were a veritable culprit, and I have seen apples and 
oranges hurled at him when he happened to play his part with 
any decree of excellence. I M^as informed that one of the 
company of the Cork Theatre, usually cast for the character of 
infomier, became so odious to the impetuous and unreasoning 
public, that he was compelled one night to jump into the river 
to escape from an infuriated mob. 

The gallery audiences laugh and weep and roar and swear 
over what they witness on the stage, and go into such ecstasies 



110 



GALLERY AUDIENCES. 



of sympathy, indignation, and choler as would not be possible 
to the most excitable throng at the Theatre Beaumarchais or 
the Funambules. The fact that the dramas always violate 
both history and probability adds to their charm for the in- 
genuous and impassioned people. In spite of the valor and 
the virtues of the latter, they have neither nationality nor in- 
dependence, and in the strict distribution of poetic justice at 
the conclusion of the performance, they have the compensa- 
tion through the imagination which stern and stubborn circum- 
stance denies to them in the larger theatre of life. 





CHAPTEK XII. 

IRELAND. 

F the wit and humor of the Irish, no one who 
sees them on their native soil, can doubt. 
They are the only peasantry in Europe who 
can lay any claim to qualities that are usually 
reckoned intellectual. They have more of 
the mental attributes of Shakespeare's clowns — the 
least natural of his wonderful creations — than any liv- 
ing mortals unblest of education. The English, Scotch, 
German, Italian, and even French peasants are the 
veriest clods in comparison with the Irish, who say bright and 
sharp things without eiFort or premeditation. Their ready wit 
and power of repartee are extraordinary, and improve as one 
journeys toward the south. I have frequently heard scintilla- 
tions from " gorsoons," and porters, and car-drivers that would 
have been applauded in the Academy, and have created envy 
in the most exclusive drawing-rooms. They never lack for a 
word or a phrase, and have a verbal knack of getting out of a 
quandary peculiarly their own, as respects both the knack and 
the quandary. It is a common saw over there that an Irish- 
man has the privilege of speaking twice ; and I can see the 
justice of it. He first makes a blunder, as if by design, and 
then renders the blunder bright by illuminating it with a 
joke. 

I remember a colloquy like this, in Sackville street, be- 
tween an English tourist and a car-driver : 

" I say, Pat, what are those figures up there ? " 
" An' shure, yer honor, thim's the twilve apos'les." 



112 



NATIVE WIT AND HUMOR. 



" Twelve apostles, indeed ! Why, there are only four." 
" Och, now, ye wouldn't have tliim all out at once, would 
ye ? That's the posht-office, and the rist is inside, yer honor, 
sortin' letthers." 

Driving through County Wicklow, and commenting on 
what seemed to be the irregularity of the milestones, my car- 
man remarked : 

" Be gorrah, an' they're not milestones at all at all. This is 

a graveyaird of the 
Miles family, an' 
there was so miny 
of thim, ye see, they 
hadn't names for 
thim all, an' so they 
numbered an' buried 
thim wheriver they 
found a good slipot." 
And his eye twink- 
lingly inquired if the 
conceit were not 
good enough for a 
drink of whiskey at 
our first halting. 

Giving a crown 
to a bar-maid at 
Limerick, for a mug 
of ale, the price of 
which was but threepence, she smiled all over her face, and 
said : 

" An' may yer worship niver wahnt for a pound until I 
give ye the change ; and I wish ye sich luck that I know ye 
wouldn't be afther askin' for a pinny of it." 

Annoyed by a strapping girl, who insisted on acting as 
guide at the Gap of Dunloe, I gave her a shilling on condition 
that she would not follow me. Before I had gone another mile 
she reappeared, when I reminded her of her promise. 

" Will," she replied, " I losht the shillin' that ye was so 




"mat te niver want for a pound.' 



IRISH FLATTERY. 113 

goohd as to give a poor gnrl the loikes o' me ; and I thought 
I'd come back to see if ye hadn't just found it." 

Of course I handed her another, with the words, " Tou 
know, ISTorah, you are not telling the truth ; but this time you 
must keep your word." 

" An' will ye make a poor gurl who's losht her heart to ye 
confess in yer viry face that she's run two miles over dese rough 
rocks to git anuther look at yer han'som' eyes ? " 

A porter at a Galway hotel had with much trouble pre- 
vented an American's trunk from going to Belfast instead of 
Queenstown, and the owner rewarded him with a sovereign. 
The shrewd fellow held the coin rapturously in his hand a few 
moments, and then said to the gentleman, " Haven't ye a bit 
o' shilver about ye ? Ye wouldn't have me shpendin' the loikes 
o' this bayutiful gould to drink yer health wid ? Give me a 
shillin', yer honor, and I'll kape this to remimber ye by." 

In the Yalley of Glendalough, a native, peering out from 
one of the ruins of the tiny Seven Churches, accosted a guide 
with, " Dinnis, did ye come here thinkin' they was say in' mass 
this mornin' ? " 

" I might have belaved so, ye spalpeen, if I hadn't sane the 
divil lookin' out of the windy." 

" Wliat makes your horse so slow ? " I asked one day in the 
Glen of the Downs of my Celtic Jehu. 

"It's out of respict to the bayutiful sanery, yer honor; he 
wants ye to see it all. An' thin he's an intilligent baste, and 
appreciates good company, an' wants to kape ye in beloved 
ould Ireland as long as he kin." 

Experience taught me that if I made complaint it was 
altogether useless to try to get an answer unflavored with what 
the natives term "deludherin' blarney." Such fulsome and 
transparent flattery as the Irish persist in pouring out upon 
you soon grows extremely irksome, and none the less so when 
you know that it is expected every honeyed falsehood wiU be 
paid for in proportion to its sweetening. 

A visit to Ireland is considered incomplete unless the vis- 
itor take at least a run through County Wicklow, caUed the 
8 



114 BRAY. 

Switzerland of Ireland. Wicklow is lauded to tlie extreme of 
hyperbole, from Belfast to Cork, and its praises are sounded 
far and wide in England. Americans who put trust in the 
highly colored accounts that may be given them, will fail to 
realize their expectations. The English, whose country is little 
more than a highly cultivated cabbage garden, think any land 
superior to their own in variety or picturesqueness, wonderful 
to behold. So they rave about Wales, and Scotland, and Ire- 
land, when travellers of experience find them somewhat tame. 
They who are acquainted with Italy and Switzerland will be 
apt to underrate Ireland, because it is revealed to them after 
much finer and grander scenery has become familiar. Wick- 
low should not be named in the same year with the Zermatt 
Yalley or the Bernese Oberland. 

The Scalp is an attractive rocky defile, originating, no 
doubt, in some convulsion of nature ; and the Dargle, a popu- 
lar place of resort, especially for picnic parties, presents many 
inducements for ramble and rest. The river, rushing through 
the rocky defile, makes welcome music in the summer, and the 
ever-green oaks, very abundant there, give grateful shade. 

Bray is an agreeable sojourning place, and is liberally pat- 
ronized by the Dublinites. Two or three 'good hotels 'are 
there, the largest of which was built by an Irishman who 
came to this country and made a fortune in a few years. Ke- 
turning home, he was so afifected by his prosperity that he 
laid siege to a distillery in the neighborhood, and was com- 
pelled to raise the siege on account of a smnmons to attend 
his own funeral. 

One or two waterfalls that give variety to the neighbor- 
hood of Bray, lack nothing but water to render them attrac- 
tive. 

The Devil's Glen, near l^e wrath, is about a mUe in length, 
and traversed by the river Yartry, which sparkles and foams 
over the rocks in a mildly romantic manner. 

The Vale of Avoca, which Moore's verse has made famoiis, 
has not the beauty the poet painted. The renowned Meeting 
of the Waters — or, rather, Meetings of the Waters, for there 



VALE OF AVOCA. 115 

are two — Moore also sang into j-eputation. The proper bne is 
formed by the confluence of two rivers — the Avonbeg and the 
Avonmore — in a pleasant valley, guarded by handsome hills. 
The exact spot where Moore wrote his lyric is marked by a 
slab and a group of evergreens. Sentimental eyes have mois- 
tened over the slab, and sensitive beings have throbbed with 
romantic emotions at the thought of the real presence of the 
Meeting of the Waters, whether they stood before one or 
the other of the aqueous conventions. There was a fierce 
contention as to which of the locations the bard intended to 
celebrate, until he admitted, in a gush of candor, that he did 
not know himself, and that he composed his poem in a library 
miles away from the scenes that suggested his subject. 

It is unkind to dash sentiment in this way ; but persons 
who, in Mr. Swiveller's rhetoric, insist on dropping the briny 
at Tasso's prison and Juliet's tomb, in Ferrara and Verona, 
when the bard never saw the former, and the latter is known 
to have been a horse-trough, must be set right for the vindica- 
tion of hist6r)7-, and in defence of the lachrymal ducts. 

Many bits of unknown scenery on this side of the Atlantic 
are far superior to the Yale of Avoca, or the "exquisitely 
beautiful Avondale." 

Not far from Aughrim is the far-famed Shillelagh Wood, 
part of the estate of the Earl of Fitzwilliam, which furnishes 
the national weapon the Green Islander is so enamored of It 
is the Irishman's logic — he calls its use an argument with sticks 
— and he applies it alike to his friends and foes. "Arrah, 
now," said a sturdy fellow to me, " we had a daliteful toime 
doon in the glin yonder. We all had our shticks wid us, and, 
be gorrah, I knocked doon six of my frinds in liss than a min- 
ute. It was foine fun, yer honor, and ye'd a bin glahd to be 
theer." 

Strange as it may seem to the descendants of Irisli kings, I 
did not regret my absence ; for I have that anti-Hibernian 
idiosyncrasy which makes pleasure possible without the intro- 
duction of a cudgel or a broken crown. 

In the Yalley of Glendalough, whose suiTounding moun- 



116 QLENM A.L URE, 

tains are precipitous and pecu. iar in shape, resembling huge 
rocks, are the Seven Churches, called the Cathedral, the Abbey, 
Trinity, Our Lady's, Christ's, the Rhefeart, and Teampule-na- 
Skillig, curious as specimens of early ecclesiastic architecture. 
Glendalough looks like fine landscape seen through an inverted 
telescope, so small and dainty is it. The valley must originally 
have been tenanted by fairies of the Pease-blossom and Mus- 
tard-seed pattern ; for no congregations composed of beings of 
a larger stature could have crowded into the tiny churches. 
One average well-fed Englishman would fill all the space the 
Cathedral could ever have contained, and any modern belle 
who desired to attend service in Trinity, would have been 
obliged to leave much of her raiment outside. 

The two lakes are pretty pools, belonging to such wild and 
stormy bodies of water as are seen in the Central Park. In 
the steep, craggy face of the mountain, some thirty feet above 
the lake, is a small cave known as Saint Kevin's Bed. Saint 
Kevin, it seems, was an anchorite of such ferocious pudicity 
that he hurled the beautiful Kathleen, who came to keep him 
company, into the lake below — a story that needs confirma- 
tion, and which women potently disbelieve. 

Some seven miles from Rathdrum is Glenmalure, a wild 
pass, so quiet and solitary that, if divorced from society and 
wedded to nature, I might be glad to dwell there. Several 
cascades are scattered through the vicinity, the most noticeable 
of which is Phoula-phouca, formed by the fall of the Lifiey, 
after passing through the Glen of Kippure. The waters glide 
in stillness to the verge of the fall, and then plunge by a series 
of cataracts — always provided the river is in proper condition 
— into the gulf below. This is one of the most famous cas- 
cades in Ireland ; but it bears no more comparison to the 
Giessbach in Switzerland, than the Passaic Falls to Niagara. 
Persons wishing quietude and gentle sensations can find them 
in "Wicklow ; but they should seek them there before maldng 
acquaintance with the Continent. 

Taking the midland Great Western Railway to Galway, 
one passes through an interesting region of country. He has 



GALWAY. 117 

a good view of the ivy-mantled towers of Leixlip Castle, and 
can, if lie choose, stop to look at the Salmon Leap in the 
Liffej. Maynooth, with its college and castle, the ruined 
walls of Castle Carbury, and the hill of Carbury, the scene of 
numerous encounters between the Irish and Anglo-Normans, 
are also on the route. Pagan remains, as they are christened, 
and decayed villages d,re scattered along the line. Ballinasloe, 
remarkable for its great cattle-fairs, and attended by people 
fi'om all parts of Europe, is one of the stations. The moun- 
tains of Connemara are visible from the railway, with the 
usual proportion of demolished castles and obsolete abbeys. 

At last one reaches Galway. the capital of the "West, and, 
in point of population — it has some 20,000 — the fifth city in 
Ireland. A few years ago it was supposed that Galway would 
become an important commercial point ; but the failure of the 
Lever line of steam-packets, running between there and New 
York, destroyed all hope of its commercial consequence. It is 
insisted on that it is the nearest point to the American coast ; 
that it has superior advantages to any port in Great Britain ; 
and the withdrawal of the steamers is ascribed by the Irish, as 
are most of their misfortunes, to British prejudice and British 
gold. 

Galway had an active commerce, chiefly with Spain, until 
the middle of the seventeenth century, and so great was the 
intercommunication between the two nations that traces of 
Spanish blood, costume, and architectui'e are still visible in the 
declining town. The wide entries, broad staircases, and arched 
gateways often recalled Cadiz, Malaga, and Seville ; and the 
sculptured and grotesque adornments on the outside of the 
buildings had the Moorish aspect that I remember in Yalencia 
and Granada. Lynch's Castle — the large warehouse in Shop 
street is so denominated — ^looks decidedly Spanish with its 
front of quaint and curious carvings, and might have been trans- 
ported from the ancient quarters of Antwerp. Many of the 
inhabitants, particularly the women of the lower order, have the 
dark eyes, dark hair, and dark complexion that belong to the 
more southern races, leaving little room to doubt that the Celtic 



118 THE CL ADD AGE. ^ 

blood of Hispania and Hibernia now flows in the same veins. 
That like seeks like is said to have been very frequently shown, 
nearly two centuries ago, by the mutual attraction existing be- 
tween the Spanish merchants and the Irish women. In some 
instances I saw the black eyes and golden hair which Titian, 
Correggio, and Guido so loved to paint, and which was re- 
garded in their time as the ideal type, especially of Yenetian 
beauty. The Galway women I encountered were of the hum- 
bler classes ; and, though not without a kind of coarse comeli- 
ness, did not suggest the pictm*es of the Academy or the Ducal 
Palace. Their garments were rather southern, both in scanti- 
ness and color. They are very fond of red petticoats, descend- 
ing to a few inches above the ankle, and of wearing black and 
blue cloaks, which they throw over the head, as if they had 
an instinct to imitate the mantilla. Shoes and stockings are 
unattainable luxuries with them, and, as they are not fanatical 
in respect to personal tidiness, they lose some of the picturesque 
effects they might have, if made immaculate and transferred to 
canvas. 

The Claddagh, the fishers' quarter near the harbor, is one 
of the attractions of Galway. The people inhabiting and 
called after the quarter are curious and peculiar in all respects. 
Like the denizens of IS^ew Haven, near Edinburgh, the natives 
of the Basque provinces in Spain, and the gypsies everywhere, 
they preserve their own customs and individuality, and very 
rarely intermarry with any other people. "Without education, 
or any of the refinements of modern life, they are far less tur- 
bulent and refractory than the natives of Connaught generally. 
They have an elected chief, whom they call king, and to him 
they refer all differences and disputes, so that they are enabled 
to get along without the dissentious assistance of lawyers. Per- 
sonal quarrels and collisions are said to be almost unknown 
among the Claddagh, and this is strong presumptive evidence 
that they are a separate race from the Irish. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



munster. 




lYE miles from Cork, which is reached by rail 
or by car, are Blarney and its famous castle. 
The Cork cars, by the bye, are different from 
those in any other part of Ireland, being small, 
square, covered boxes, with seats on the side, 
but not over the wheels, looking like segments of 
our own omnibuses. 

Everybody knows that kissing the Blarney Stone 
is synonymous with a fluent and flattering tongue, re- 
gardless of sincerity. Every Irishman south of the Liffey is 
popularly supposed to have enjoyed the renowned osculation ; 
and though very few have, to none of them is denied the 
wheedling gift it is presumed to bestow, any more than that 
derived from a dip in the Shannon, that makes perfect the 
quality of impudence, or, as the natives euphemistically express 
it, ci\dl courage. The origin of the term Blarney and of the 
Blarney Stone is told in numberless traditions. Crofton Cro- 
ker states — and this is the most plausible of all the stories — 
that in 1602, when the Spaniards were urging the Irish chief- 
tains to harass the English, one Cormach M'Dermod Carty, 
who held the castle, had concluded an armistice with the Lord 
President on condition of surrendering it to an English garri- 
son. Carty put off his lordship day after day, with fair prom- 
ises and false pretexts, until the latter became the laughing- 
stock of Ehzabeth's Ministers, and the former's honeyed and 
delusive speeches were stamped with the title of Blarney. 
Father Prout, in his popular papers, speaks of the stone as 



220 THE BLARNEY STONE. 

the paUadium of Ireland, and attempts to show, drolly enough, 
that it was brought over by the Phoenician colony said to have 
peopled the island; that the Syrians and Carthaginians, long 
its custodians, gave rise to the expression Punica fides Syri- 
osque hUingues, from their labial devotion to the stone. He 
adds that some Carthaginian adventurers, enamoured of the 
relic, stole it and carried it off to Minorca, and afterward, 
driven by a storm into Cork harbor, deposited it near the pres- 
ent spot. From the same high authority we learn that the 
" Groves of Blarney " was translated from the Greek, though 
the well-known song was written only seventy years ago, by 
Kichard Milliken, a Cork lawyer, as a burlesque on some dog- 
gerel rhymes about Castle Hyde. 

There are several Blarney Stones, and the garrulous old 
woman, who has been, she says, custodian there for forty years, 
regulates her choice of the veritable Blarney according to the 
visitor's willingness and capacity to climb. She told me first 
that the real stone had been knocked off by some "indacent 
blackgeeards," and was lying on the ground near the door I 
entered. I informed her I knew better; that she had found 
the invention convenient because most persons preferred to 
touch that stone with their lips rather than take the trouble of 
reaching the genuine one. 

The great original is at the northern angle of the massive 
donjon, about one hundred and twenty feet high, which, with 
a lower and greatly-decayed portion of the castle, is all the 
ruin that remains-v Jt is some distance below the summit, and 
bears the inscription, now very dim, " Cormach MacCarthy 
fortis me fieri facit, a.d. 1446." If it were very easy to kiss 
the stone (is it with women as with it?) perhaps fewer per- 
sons would kiss it ; but as the caressing performance requires 
that one shall be held over the parapet by the heels, I put mine 
in charge of my companion, fresh from Oxford, who took his 
pay for his trouble by pronouncing me in Greek a simpleton, 
presuming that the classicism would either disarm the offence 
or soften the justice of the charge. 

The old castle, covered with ivy, stands on the side of a 



CORK. 121 

steep limestone ridge, rising from a deep valley on the bank 
of a small river — the Au-Martin, which washes part of the 
base — and adds greatly to the interest and beauty of the sur- 
rounding landscape. The grounds adjoining the castle are the 
celebrated Groves of Blarney, to which the loquacious gate- 
keeper admits you when, by his practical knowledge of physi- 
ognomy, he discovers a shilling in your face. He persists in 
telling you the Groves are " bayutiful, daliteful, and shplen- 
did," conscious, probably, that without his assistance you would 
arrive at no such conclusion. The Groves, nothing but a thick 
shrubbery of laurel-trees, long divested of the grottos and 
rustic bridges that once adorned them, are only worth seeing 
because, if you neglected them, you would hear from somebody 
else how much you had missed. 

Cork, with a population of nearly 100,000, ranks next to 
Dublin and Belfast, A large part of the city is built between the 
dividing branches of the Lee. The Mall, Patrick, George, and 
the Grand Parade are the principal streets, but have no archi- 
tectural attractions, as the buildings, both public and private, 
are irregular and unhandsome. The principal lion is the 
Shandon steeple, the spire of St. Anne, which, as the church 
is built on an eminence, is visible from every part of the city. 
The steeple is composed of the limestone of a demolished 
abbey and the red sandstone of a ruined castle, making three 
of the sides white, and the remaining one red ; so that it seems 
not unlike an ecclesiastic barber' s-pole. Father Prout's familiar 
lines, — 

" The bells of Shandon, 
They sound so grand on 
The banks of Lee," — 

have done more than anything else to make the church and 
the spire famous. 

The Queen's College is very picturesquely situated on a 
height overlooking the river, and, looming out from the midst 
of trees growing down to the edge of the stream below, com- 
mands a magnificent view. 



122 QUEENSTOWN. 

Ko one should fail to go down the Lee to Queenstown, a 
distance of twelve miles. The Cove of Cork is renowned for 
its beauty, and deserves all its reputation. The slopes of the 
northern bank are crowned with terraces and villas, and be- 
tween the demesnes of Tivoli and Feltrim the channel sweeps 
to the south, and carries you by Dundanion Castle and its 
pleasant grounds. On the right bank of the river, opposite 
the village of Blackrock, is the Ursuhne Convent, one of the 
best known institutions of its kind in Ireland ; and further 
down is the Blackrock Castle, built in the gothic style, on pro- 
jecting rocks, and completely commanding that part of the 
river. You also steam by Castle Mahon, formerly the resi- 
dence of Lady Chatterton, a writer of some distinction ; by 
the town of Passage, to which Croker has given lyrical fame, 
celebrating in verse the charms of its anonymous maid ; by 
the Giant's Stairs, a name given to some natural steps in the 
cliff; by the pretty village of Monkstown; and by Rocky 
Island, which would be well worth attention, if the ten thou- 
sand barrels of gunpowder, usually stored in the hewn-out 
chambers of the rock, should simultaneously explode. 

Queenstown is associated with the emigrants who are con- 
tinually flocking to this country. I had expected to find them 
indulging in every form of fantastic grief as they parted from 
the land they seem to love so much, and yet are so glad to 
quit ; but they bore the separation with due resignation. The 
truth is, the emigrants display their grief and exhaust their 
sentiment of pathos when they leave their immediate homes. 
At Tralee, Limerick, Kildare, Kilkenny, and other places, I 
had been the witness of scenes of passionate sorrow that at 
first smote my heart. The persons who were going away 
were accompanied to the stations by all their relatives and 
friends ; and such sobbing and weeping, such intense embraces 
and clasping of arms, such gesticulations and ejaculations, such 
invocations to Heaven, and hurling of shoes — not worn, but 
brought along for the purpose — it had never before been my 
lot to witness. Children, women, young men and old, made 
water-carts of themselves, as Mr. Samuel Weller would put it. 



DEPARTURE OF EMIGRANTS. 123 

Young women threw themselves on the ground and tore their 
hair, and seemed resolved to beat their brains out against the 
nearest wall ; old women wrapped their heads in the ragged 
cloaks they are never without, and, swaying to and fro, uttered 
those peculiar wails and cries — the genuine ulalulu — which 
they always employ as a chorus to misfortune ; the men kissed 
and clung to each other as a doting woman would to her lover 
on his way to certain death ; and the little children were as 
melodramatically afHicted as if dirt and mothers were banished 
from the world. Nothing in the direst woes of Yerdi's lyric 
dramas, even as represented at the Grand Opera, surpassed the 
exhibition of mental agony I would have been only too glad 
to escape from. If actual heart-break be possible, it will surely 
take place among these poor peasants, I thought. Having on 
several occasions, however, concluded not to take the trains on 
which the emigrants went, I discovered that those who re- 
mained behind could, like the ultra-sentimental of all nations, 
die of grief without recourse to the physician, the priest, or the 
undertaker. As the cars passed out of sight, eyes were dried, 
hysterics disappeared, crushed souls were restored, and the 
joyous sun again flashed through the pall of sundered clouds. 
In fifteen minutes the women chattered and laughed, the chil- 
dren made bog-puddings (we call them dirt-pies) and roared 
with delight ; while the men, smoking their " dudeens," and 
draining the bottle to their departed friend's, were merry as 
crickets once more. 

Then- sorrow was genuine, but it was not lasting, fortu- 
nately, for it would soon kill in such large and strong doses. 
The Irish, especially the Southern, are supremely emotional 
and excitable. Very easily moved, they quickly react from 
sorrow, which is not natural to them as a permanent feeling, 
and regain the state of cheerfulness and gayety that belongs to 
tltfeir mercurial temperament. They enjoy the emotional, cul- 
tivating rather than resisting it ; are hapjsy in their unique 
way, both at wakes and weddings, at fights and funerals, in 
the midst of penury and surrounded by abundance. 

It is not strange the common people want to come to 



124 IRISH FUTURE IN AMERICA. 

America — the land of promise and El Dorado indeed, likened 
to their own. Ireland is better to look at than to liv^e in. An 
artist may make pictures there, but the laborer with difficulty 
earns his bread. Kecks, and lakes, and mountains, are excel- 
lent for landscape, but hard for the tiller of the soil. Much 
of Leinster, Connaught, and Munster is a wretched country, 
and nearly all the South is sterile and boggy. For miles and 
miles, nothing but stunted herbage and beds of peat, a robust 
but ragged peasantry, miserable hovels, and an air of reckless- 
ness and desolation on every hand, indifference and improvi- 
dence to-day, and heedlessness of to-morrow. A mildew is on 
the land : it steadily declines and hopelessly decays. 

The Irish, I repeat, ascribe their unfortunate condition to 
the English ; the English trace it to their want of knowledge, 
energy, and character, — to superstition, bigotry, intemperance, 
and thriftlessness. Perhaps the truth lies between the two. 
At any rate, Ireland is not the kind of country for the Irish. 
They have not the qualities nor the habits to develop a land 
so little favored by nature, and it would seem that before many 
years the entire population will be transferred to our shores. 
The Irish future lies in America. 

There is no doubt in my mind that the Catholic Irish are 
different from any other people under the sun. Their virtues, 
no less than their vices, are their own, and it is almost impossi- 
ble to judge them by ordinary rules. They defy analysis or 
classification, and are as much a mystery to themselves and 
each other as to external nations. Where, or under what cir- 
cumstances, they would succeed best, no one may say ; even 
they do not conjecture a future, which, with all their boasted 
past, they have never calmly considered. 

They are told that they suffer here by sticking to the 
cities, instead of seeking the country and making themselves 
independent ; but on their own soil they flourish no better in 
the rural regions than in the social centres. Their hovels are 
the most miserable in Europe, and their state the poorest. 
"With an earth floor, a rude chimney, a bed of peat, a wife and 
a dozen children, a pound of tobacco, and a spirit-shop not far 



AN OPPRESSED PEOPLE. 125 

away, without a shilling or a prospect, they are easy-minded 
and happy-go-lucky to a degree that no Anglo-Saxon can un- 
derstand. "When we should go mad, or blow our brains out 
from sheer desperation, they will whistle and dance in their 
dirt and rags, and lie down to a deeper and sweeter sleep, with 
starvation and typhus in the hut, than any one of us, under 
the most favorable circumstances, would enjoy on a pillow of 
fragrant down. 

I have visited the principal cities and districts of Ireland, 
and though I have been pleased with it, it is rather monoto- 
nous, and the condition of the country, and the poverty of the 
people make a journey through its length and breadth often 
disagreeable — sometimes painful. The southern Irish are 
in an unfortunate state. They ascribe all their ills to England, 
and seem to be hopeless of their political future, which prom- 
ises better than it has done for generations. The much-agitated 
Church Establishment has been put at rest, and the land ques- 
tion is assuming a more favorable shape. The friends and 
advocates of the Government declare that the inhabitants of 
Connaught and Munster are more dissatisfied than ever, and 
that the more they receive the more they demand. 

There may be a feeling in the minds of the Catholic Irish 
that the soil belongs to them ; that the landlords are oppressors 
and aliens for the most part, and hold their privilege only by 
force. This feeling, whether just or not, has an evil influence 
upon the land ; paralyzes energy ; destroys ambition ; eats at 
the public heart ; is an incurable canker far and near. The 
Englishman and Catholic Irishman are natural enemies, and 
the difference in their history, traditions, aspirations, and creeds 
will be Likely to keep them such. What is best for that coun- 
try only time will show. It is useless to prescribe for its 
numerous ills. Remedies have been tried again and again, 
and are still being tried ; but the trouble is, the people sorely 
disagree as to what they need and should have. Perhaps the 
wisest thing to say in the present crisis — that land always has 
a crisis — is to repeat what we hear so often on both sides of 
the Atlantic--" God save Ireland ! " 




CHAPTER XIV. 

THE FRENCH CAPITAL. 

'NE advantage in visiting Paris is, that if you 
fail to like it, you won't be satisfied anywhere. 
Paris is unquestionably the gayest of all capitals, 
with more to amuse and interest than any other city 
on either side of the Atlantic. Science, art, Hterature, 
society, pleasure, in almost every form, are to be 
found and followed there ; and he who suffers from 
ennui on the Boulevards is hlase beyond heahng. 

The French capital may disappoint at first, and an initial 
visit, when sight-seeing is the sole purpose, may prove weari- 
some. I know it was so with me. Having but a limited period 
to devote to the city, I was compelled to make a business of 
what should have been an entertainment. The first few days 
passed very tolerably. But after doing the Louvre Gallery, 
Notre Dame, the Madeleine, the Boulevards, the principal 
opera houses and theatres, the Mabille, Chateau Rouge, the 
Imperial Library, the Corps Legislatif, the Champs Elysees, 
and the Bois de Boulogne, I began to be tired of the treadmill 
round. 

To a very young man Paris is always delightful. Its walks, 
drives, amusements, brilliant cafes, demi-monde and varied 
excitements, are seductive, fascinating. But, when somewhat 
older, he has ceased to dwell in mere externals. After he has 
lost the power to idealize the common irregularities of youth- 
ful experience ; after the glamour of freshness and fancy has 
gone, he sees in Paris only a repetition of other places ; and 



THE GRAND HOTEL. 127 

lacking intellectual and sympathetic companions, wearies of 
the charming city in a week. 

It has been said that when good Americans die they go to 
Paris; but they go in crowds; otherwise, it would not be 
thought an abode of the blessed. Going to Paris means, with 
most of our countrymen, having a round of dissipation with 
each other at the Grand Hotel. Of French life they see noth- 
ing, and care little for it. They ride, and drive, and laugh, 
and talk, and drink, and spend money together, and having 
nothing to do, and no sense of restraint, they imagine them- 
selves very happy, and return home with pleasant memories 
of the French capital. Everybody has met a number of such 
persons, who think it very odd that their peculiar pleasures 
are not relished by all. They prefer the Valentino to the 
Louvre, and the Clauserie de Lilas to. Yersailles. 

To enjoy Paris below the mere surface, to appreciate it 
fully, one must stay in it some time ; must learn to feel how 
convenient, comfortable, and varied it is ; how infinitely supe- 
rior, on the whole, to any or every other city, and cease to 
measure it by a purely ideal standard. I have had such expe- 
rience ; and, looking back calmly upon all the places I have 
seen and resided in, the French capital stands above any other, 
and draws me with a stronger magnetism. It is not so much 
its excitement as its rest, its gayety as its cosmopoHtan solitude, 
its pleasures as its polite indifierence, that always invite me 
to the great centre of civilization. 

Not less than twenty to twenty-five thousand Americans 
are usually staying in Paris, and the Grand Hotel is their 
rallying point and rendezvous. Go into the court-yard any 
day between eleven in the morning and the same hour in the 
evening, and you will be almost certain to meet some of your 
acquaintances. I have encountered men there I had not seen 
before for ten or twelve years. 

The Grand Hotel does, and has from the first done, an im- 
mense business ; but, as in the case of the Erie Railway, the 
stockholders seem to derive little benefit from it. The hotel 
is owned by a French company, between which and the pat- 



128 THE THEATRES. 

rons there are so many intermediates that tlie profits get 
strained too fine for perception. It is a common saying that 
everybody makes money about the concern but its sharehold- 
ers. If a shrewd, energetic American should take the house, 
he would make a fortune in a few years. 

As an instance of its profits, two of the principal waiters 
in the drinking saloon pay $1,000 a year for their places, and 
clear $1,500 to $2,000 each, by the pour hoire they receive. 
Ko wonder : the careless-handed Americans are favorite geese 
to be plucked by the vast horde of shrewd Continentalists. 

The Grand Hotel is expensive, costing from $50 or $60, to 
$200, $300, and $500 a week. :N'ot a few of our countrymen 
who go there to make a show, spend the last-named sums, and 
fancy they have done honor to the Republic by their reckless 
outlay. 

The theatres, to the number of twenty-five or thirty, in- 
cluding the four or five opera houses, present every variety of 
attraction, from the classic drama of Racine and Moliere to 
the vaudeville and spectacular ballet. The prices seem high, 
even to an American, ranging from twelve francs (about $2.50) 
to two francs. The houses are excellently patronized, particu- 
larly on Sunday evening; but they are ill-constructed for ven- 
tilation, and the stalls are so shut in that it is difficult to 
breathe. We find fault with our theatres, which are breezy 
gardens compared to the theatres of Paris. The foyer, into 
which every one goes during the entr'actes for fresh air, pre- 
vents asphyxia. Some of the theatres are very well built, and 
handsome ; but others are dingy, even dirty, and every way 
disagreeable. Much more attention is paid to the scenery, and 
costuming, and orchestra, than with us, generally ; but some 
of the New York houses will compare favorably with, are 
even superior to, any in Paris. 

The people who go to the theatres pay little attention to 
dress. At the Grand Opera and Comedie Francaise, on par- 
ticular occasions, toilette is deemed essential; but it is not 
usually much regarded, even there, out of the boxes. 

A popular idea in our country is that Parisian audiences 



THE BOULEVARDS. 



129 



are very quiet and thoroughly well-bred. They are, on the 
contrary, very noisy, and even during the performance, some- 
times chatter and laugh so loudly as to require the rebuke of 
all who wish to hear the play. 

They are quite as bad as our people in getting up and hur- 
rying away from the house before the curtain falls. They be- 
gin to go out five minutes before the last words are spoken or 
sung, and can't be kept in their places by the severest disap- 
probation. 

The Boulevards, from the Madeleine to the Place de la 
Bastille, show the life of Paris. 

All its features and characteristics are reflected there — its 
variety, its animation, its gayety, its glitter, its elegance, its 




BOTTLEVABD ST. HICHEIj. 



hollowness, its fierceness, its tenderness, its love of art, its 
fondness of sensation, its passion for nudity and out-door life. 
Probably the Boulevards are a disappointment to many 
who have heard so much of their splendor. They are merely 
very broad, well-built, admirably paved streets, fiill of gay 
shops, brilliant cafes, hotels, and theatres ; but when they are 
lighted at night, and crowded with loungers and promenaders, 
9 



130 



RECOGNIZED IMPOSITIONS. 



ttiey arb really dazzling, and surpass any similar quarter in the 

world. 

The Boulevard St. Michel is one of the many fine streets, 

and gives a very fair idea of their general appearance. 

The Place 
de la Bastille is 
historic ground. 
There formerly 
stood the re- 
nowned Bas- 
tille, built as the 
Castle of Paris, 
afterward used 
as a State pris- 
on. The spot is 
now marked by 
a graceful mon- 
ument; and the 
names of six 
hundred and fif- 
ty-five persons 
who, it is said, 




PLACE DE LA BASTILLE. 



caused its destruction, are engraved upon the column. 

One of the continental annoyances to new travellers is the 
pour hoire, huona mano, or trinlc-geld (drink-money), for it is 
never included in any agreement, nor is the amount fixed. 
You engage a hack, or get your dinner or breakfast, or go to 
the theatre, or buy anything, and, in addition to the price, you 
are expected to pay something more, wdiich varies from a few 
sous to five francs or a sovereign. How this custom arose I 
can't say ; but it is so firmly established that it is difficult to 
break it down. 

While Americans complain of the system, they do more 
than any other people to make it oppressive by their extrava- 
gance. They pay six sous for a glass of beer, and give ten to 
the garcon ; and so in proportion. If tourists would demand 
that all first charges should include everything, the imposition 



FREEDOM OF WOMEX. 131 

woiild be stopped ; but until they protest against it by act, of 
course it will be continued. The pour hoire is the hete noir 
of travellers of irritable temper and limited means. 

Americans maunder, too, about the small swindles prac- 
ticed by hotel-keepers, such as charging them with extras they 
do not have ; putting down candles they have never seen ; 
making them pay for service in the bill, and expecting them 
to pay it over again to the domestics. The item of service 
has long been an annoyance. Tourists were so defrauded by 
servants — demands were so exacting — that landlords pretended 
to remove the grievance by including the service in the bill. 
They do include it ; but every servant expects gratuities just 
the same. The only course of conduct is to have an under- 
standing that the service be paid with your bill, and let the 
begging menials go. It may be more trouble for you to do 
this than to pay twice ; but you must decide that question for 
yourself. 

Women have a great deal of freedom in Paris. They go 
where they like, and do what they like, without the smallest 
hindrance. They are unattended very often, and no one mo- 
lests or insults them. They enter the crowded cafes ; take a 
seat in a whole line of men ; call for a cup of coffee or a glass 
of wine, or a sherbet, and have their pleasure in the most 
masculine way. True, most of the unattended women are 
lorettes ; but they are treated with as much outward respect 
as if they were duchesses. No rudeness, no ribaldry, in their 
presence. Nobody feels contaminated by their nearness. Even 
their purer and more fortunate sisters sit at their side with 
fathers, brothers, and husbands, and feel no taint. 

There are very rarely separate apartments for the sexes, and 
for the reason that there men do not talk in j)ublic in such a man- 
ner that women may not hear them. Americans, who reside 
in Paris for any length of time, adopt the habit of the coun- 
try, and go to the cafes with their feminine friends without 
the least hesitation. You often see ladies drinking coffee and 
wine at the little tables in the court-yard of the Grand Hotel- 
the great stronghold of Americanism. ^ 



132 



UXIVERSAL POLITENESS. 



You may remain in Paris a year, and visit every quarter, 
without seeing a quarrel of any sort. A street fight is ahnost 
unknown, and the striking of a blow is an anomaly there. 
The influence of decorum must be strong when our country- 
men cease to be belligerent, once on the Seine. 

It is a serious thing legally to strike a Frenchman. A 
young Bostonian took offence during the Exposition at a gen- 
danne, and knocked him down. Other gendarmes inter- 
fered, and they were felled also. The affair created an excite- 
ment. The young fellow escaped into the Grand Hotel, but 
not concealing himself, he was afterward arrested and thrown 
into prison. General Dix tried to obtain his release, but did 
not succeed until the young man had been confined seven 
months, and had paid several thousand dollars. The poor fel- 
low, though very vigorous naturally, was entirely broken down 
by his captivity, went home, and died of consumption. 

I like the 
Frencli for their 
politeness and 
decorum. Go 
where you will, 
there you never 
notice the 
smallest rude- 
n e s s , even 
among the com- 
m o n classes. 
The spirit of 
courtesy is uni- 
versal. It may 

not be deep, but it is all one desires. Ask a qiiestion in the 
streets, and you may be sure of a courteous answer. Any one 
will direct you to a place you wish to find, and take pains to 
accommodate you, and that, too, without expectation or thought 
of reward. 
' The fondness of the Frencli for out-door life is a healthful 
tin. They rarely sit within walls when they can get into 




UNIVERSAL POLITENESS. 



FONDNESS OF TALKING. 133 

the open air. On pleasant days every cafe in and about Paris 
has its little marble-top tables arranged under awnings 
in front of the house. There men and women sit, and talk, 
and smoke, and drink hour after hour in a state of repose and 
satisfaction that never seem to be ours. 

They can extract much from little. Their pleasures are 
not expensive. They are very economical. A Frenchman 
will sit over his small glass of eau sucre or demi-bouteille of vin 
ordinaire, and draw more satisfaction from it than an American 
would from the expenditure of a thousand dollars. 

The French are born talkers, and usually they talk well. 
Their language is eminently adapted for conversation, having 
all the little niceties and varieties of expression that make compli- 
ment, satire, and epigram. Since the Greeks gabbled so elo- 
quently in ancient Athens, there have been no such talkers, as a 
nation, as the French. It is to them a distinct pleasure ; they 
cultivate it as an art ; it is an intellectual dissipation ; a sort of 
mental absinthe, without its bane. Frenchmen, and particu- 
larly women, are won by talking. While they can talk, and 
be talked to, life is not barren, nor their existence a failure. 
To more reticent nations they seem complete chatterboxes. 
High and low, rich and poor, cultivated and uncultivated, all 
talk. In the market, the public square, the theatre, the cafe, 
the drawing-room, their tongues ^are constantly wagging, and 
they wag witli no little eloquence. When an American, who 
loves conversation and speaks French, is weary of his own 
country, he can go to Paris, and talk himself into Pere la 
Chaise. 

The Hotel de Ville is an imposing and magnificent struc- 
ture, devoted to the city's use. It has elegantly-appointed 
apartments for the use of civic and other public functionaries, 
and an immense library of some fifty thousand volumes, con- 
taining works of the greatest value. 

In the Eue de la Paix is a well-known pastry-cook, whose 
history is singular. He was once a litterateur and dramatist, 
famous for his eccentricity. He had talent, but he never 
succeeded with the managers on account of his want of tact. 



134 



AN UNGRATEFUL HUSBAND. 



Poverty was, consequently, his natural condition, and lie suf- 
fered from it ; for, like most men of culture, he had luxurious 
tastes. About five years ago a wealthy friend, who had often 
lent the playwright money, fell violently in love with the pretty 




TUE UOTEL DE VILLB. 



wife of a pastry-cook, one Lacroix, and laid formal siege to her 
affections. Contrary to the expectations of the lover, the 
madame, though amiable, was not disloyal, and repulsed all 
his advances. The gallant, who had been very successful in such 
affairs, was angry at his failure, and finding the wife could not 
be captured, he withdrew his suit, and resolved to be revenged. 
In the dilemma he applied to the litterateur as to the best means 
of getting satisfaction. The man of the pen advised his friend 
to set him up as a pastry-cook in the same neighborhood, say- 
ing that the novelty of the thing would take away all Lacroix's 
business. The idea was put into practice. The store adjoin- 
ing Lacroix's was rented, and the playwright put into it. The 
appearance of the eccentric fellow in a cap and white apron 
proved an attraction. He secured a large custom at once, and 
has retained it ever since. Lacroix was compelled to re- 
move his shop to another quarter of the town, and soon failed 
completely. 



THE MORAL. 



135 



The madarne learned the cause of the sudden rivahy, and 
imparted it to her husband, expecting to be highly praised for 
her virtue. But her liege lord, as the story goes, was incensed 
at her for her superfluous conscientiousness, and upbraided her 
as the author of his misfortunes. They quarrelled so that they 
separated. The madame was very justly indignant, and, after 
the divorce, became attached to the ardent admirer she had 
formerly rejected. 

Let no wife who has resisted temptation, draw from this 
story a false moral. Let her remember that men love truth 
above everything ; that but few husbands are named Lacroix, 
or are pastry-cooks, both in spirit and in fact. 





CHAPTEK XY. 

MAGNIFICENT PAKIS. 

>ERE LA CHAISE is one of the disappoint- 
ments of Paris. There are many cemeteries in 
the United States superior to it. Indeed, the 
famous place has very little to recommend it, and 
reminds one of a brick-yard scattered over a hill. 
The monuments generally are neither handsome 
nor in good taste. There are no walks nor groves 
worthy of the name ; and you marvel how such a cemetery 
ever gained g, reputation. 

There are the graves of warriors, poets, statesmen, patriots ; 
but the tomb of Abelard and Heloise is more interesting than 
all the rest. The figures of the famous lovers, carved upon 
the monument, lie side by side — her head resting upon his 
arm — and are covered by a Gothic roof. The tomb is much 
impaired by time, and the only part of the inscription we can 
read is, " They are united at last in death." 

I had great difficulty in finding the grave, and asked two 
elderly women of the humble class, where it was. They 
took great pains to show me ; went here and there among 
the tombs, spending as much as fifteen minutes in the search. 
At last they pointed it out. I thanked them, and offered them 
money ; but they refused it politely, saying, " Oh ! no, sir ; we 
are glad you wanted to see it ; we are too happy to show it 
to you. We cannot take money for pointing out the grave of 
the two dear ones who have done so much to make love im- 
mortal." I thanked them again, and felt ashamed that I had 
forgotten that every woman in France is a sentimentalist. 



NOTED GRAVES. 



137 



My guides were poor ; would have received money for al- 
most any other courtesy, I suppose ; but they could not accept 
reward for performing what they regarded as a sentimental 
duty. No persons of the same class in England, Germany, 
Spain, or Italy, would decline money under such circumstan- 
ces ; but in France, the mere name of love is the open sesame 
to every feminine heart. 

I stood before the tomb, and, recalling their story, won- 
dered whether the lovers were indeed united in death. Does 
sympathy 
extend be- 
yond the 
grave? or 
is it merely 
the credu- 
lity of the 
heart that 
makes us 
believe so? 
I thought 
how true it 
i s , setting 

aside all romance, that love was never so pure, so deep, so 
chivalrous, as it is to-day ; that woman was never before such 
an object of spiritual worship ; that man, even in this age of 
practicality, was never so knightly in his devotion, so gener- 
ous in his charity to woman's weaknesses and woman's errors. 

So reflecting, I uncovered in the presence of the dead, and 
felt that love is the sole religion ; the Christ that, by hourly 
offering itself a sacrifice for selfishness, makes it nobleness at 
last ; the good angel who works miracles of beauty, purifies 
and transforms whatever it touches, until what is Love's be- 
comes Hope, and Holiness, and Kest. 

It was painful to remember, beside their tomb, that only 
Heloise was noble and devoted ; that Abelard was selfish, and 
mean, and cowardly beyond almost any man woman has suf- 
fered for. He acted like a tyrant and a brute, and yet she 




GRAVE OF ABELARD AND HELOISE. 



138 



CHUKCHES OF PARIS. 



loved him as if lie had been an angel. She forgave him all 
the monstrous wrongs he had done her, and to the last was 
loyal and magnanimous in every throb of her heart. Abelard 
is sanctified in sentiment ; but in history and truth he deserves 
eternal execration. 

The churches of Paris are very costly, and many of them 
beautiful. The fame of Kotre Dame is almost as great as that 
of St. Peter's Cathedral at Eome. 

The Church of St. Genevieve was modelled after the 
. . i^ celebrated Pan- 

^ theon at Athens, 

^ and bore that 

//,fl^^i" , ^ name for a long 

///^L^_^ ' 1 time. It was 

converted after- 
i ward into a 
\ temple dedica- 
ted to the fem- 
l ous men ot the 
^ nation, but was 




' restored to the 
i Church by the 
^ Emperor Napo- 
leon III., and 
>i christened in 
honor of Saint 
Genevieve. It 
'-'^ is a grand and 
^^^^^^.^^^^g magnificent 

CHURCH OP ST. GENEVIEVE. StrUCtUrC. 

The Church of St. Sulpice is an imposing edifice. Its 
front is of a very unusual style, and, standing in an open space, 
the structure produces a striking efiect. ^ 

It has an immense organ, of about seven thousand pipes, 
and one hundred and eighteen registers. 

The interior of the church is hung with rich and expensive 
paintings, and few persons visit Paris without giving the build- 
jng a long and close inspection. 



FRENCH STOCK EXCHANGE. 



139 



Paris abounds in public buildings of a sumptuous kind. 
The Hotel des Invalides is one of the finest specimens of archi- 
tecture hi the city. It shelters the poor and infirm defend- 




CHUECU OF ST. StTLPlCE. 



ers of France. The dome is over three hundred feet in height ; 
a Church hospital and library are connected with it, and it has 
accommodations for about five thousand men. Its chapel con- 
tains the splendid tomb of the Emperor Napoleon I., and is 
rich in paintings and statuary. 

Those who have been amused with the tumultuous pro- 
ceedings of the Gold Board or Stock Exchange, in Broad 
street, should not fail to make a comparison between New 
York and Paris. I once thought no men out of straight 
jackets could appear more excited or grotesque than our bro- 
kers and speculators, when the list of shares is fluctuating and 
feverish. 

I was mistaken. The Parisians are thrice as mad as they, 
as you may see, if you will walk along the Boulevards down to 
the Place de la Bourse any afternoon between twelve and three. 
That vast Pantheon-shaped building, the steps of which are 



140 



VIEW FROM THE GALLERY. 



crowded with men talking together in knots, holding pencils 
and small books, is the French Stock Exchange. The 'outside 
groups appear calm. They are talking earnestly, but not 
loudly ; and yet over, and around, and under them comes a 

roar rising and 
falling like an an- 
gry sea. You 
cannot account 
for the mysteri- 
ous noise at first ; 
but when you 
mount the steps 
you perceive the 
tumult is inside 
of the 
Desirous to 
vestigate, you as- 
cend by a side 
door to the gal- 
lery, open to the 
public, and look 
down into the 
large hall below. 
You will find a 
great many spec- 
tators like your- 
self in the gal- 
lery, which will 
hold twenty-five 
hundred, all of 
them watching the excited tlirong. 

The hall occupies the entire building, the walls extending 
to the roof, and bearing medallions with the names of the 
principal commercial cities of Europe. The floor is filled with 
men of all ages — those of middle life and beyond it predomi- 
nating — separated from each other by iron railings and circles 
guarded by gendarmes (soldiers are ubiquitous in France), 




building. 



in- 



HOTEL DES INVALIDES. 



WALL STREET OUTDOXE. 141 

who stand there to keep out all but the regular members. 
"Within the iron railings are the registers and accountants, who, 
with large books before them, keep records of the sales and 
transfers of the shares sold during the day. 

Every one of the ten or twelve hundred men down there 
is talking; no, not talking, but yelling at the top of his 
voice, and many of them shaking their anns and brandishing 
their hats in the air continuously and frantically. They are 
oifering stocks you know ; but you never would suppose any 
one could hear what they are saying. They are not content 
with shouting or gesticulating. They are indulging in physi- 
cal gyrations and contortions. They hug each other like 
fellows maudlin after midnight ; they leap on each other's 
shoulders ; they shake fists ; they dash forward and junip back- 
ward ; they laugh ; they scream ; they howl ; and style all this 
business. 

What a centre of commerce a mad-house must be, you 
think, if the Bourse is a place of sale and barter ! 

I don't think any one gets a better idea of the trade of 
money-making after spending an hour in the strangers' gal- 
lery. He concludes if men can be so aftected by speculation, 
that speculation must be undesirable, even pernicious. 

See that gray-haired man, sixty-five at least, who ought to 
have retired years ago, and to be living at peace with all the 
world. He is worth a vast fortune ; and yet he is crying out 
in a shrill voice, "Half per cent, higher!" wiping his hot 
brow nervously, and inviting the apoplexy to visit him next 
spring, when, if he had been sensible, it would not have come 
at all. His wife is gambling at Baden-Baden ; his daughters 
are losing their hearts to professional libertines, and his only 
son is running to the grave by the path of dissipation. The 
old speculator might have had it otherwise; but he forgot 
family for money, and he has his reward. 

There is a young man who had a handsome income from 
his business ; but he did not think it large enough. He deter- 
mined to speculate, and now his life is so feverish that he can 
rest neither day nor night. The terrible voice that says, 



142 



RESULTS OF SPECULATION. 



" Sleep no more ! " has spoken to him. His young wife watches 
his hectic cheek, and shudders at his sudden starts in the silent 
watches before the dawn. And then she goes to the little 
cradle at the bedside, and prays over the sleeping babe, 
through falling tears, that the father may be spared, and that 
poverty may come, if with it will come peace of mind. 

The Paris Bourse is worse than the ]^ew York Exchange 
111 its power of harm ; for men, bankrupt in the Old "World, 
cannot recover as in the New. 

Scores of persons are often ruined at the Bourse in a single 
day. No one takes warning by example : we want experience 
of our own, and we get it to our cost. 





CHAPTER XYI. 

LIFE IN PAKIS. 

ARIS is an unfortunate place for persons with 
bad tendencies. It makes them worse by 
giving them opportunities and licenses they 
would not have nor take at home. Some 
young men go, or are sent there, to reform. It is 
like casting soiled linen into the mire for cleansing. 
Their temptations are ten times as strong as they would 
be anywhere else, and, moreover, all the restraints of 
friends and family are removed. Within a radius of 
five hundred miles a youth will be drawn into the maelstrom 
of dissipation, and it is difficult to get him out. 

Young men sent to the Continent to be educated find their 
bane in that city. Instead of studying at Heidelberg, or Jena, 
or Dresden, they riot among the wine-shops and the lorettes 
of Paris ; and even wlien they summon resolution enough to 
go back to their musty books they rarely stay long. Nanine 
writes, or Figaro speaks of a new play, and they rush off by 
the first train to the seductive capital. I have known youths, 
while parents believed they were mastering all the philosophy 
and science in Germany, who were graduating in dissipation 
not far from the Place Yendome. When they returned home, 
with pale faces and bloodshot eyes, their sympathetic sisters 
pitied them, no doubt, and said, " Poor, dear Charley, he has 
nearly killed himself with study at that hateful university. 
He would have died if he had staid there much longer." Per. 
haps he would ; but Thorpe's, and late suppers, and the ballet- 






144 WOMEN OF PARIS. 

girls of tlie Cliatelet, and the syrens of the Closerie would have 
been the means of his taking off. 

The "Grand Duchess" Schneider I have often heard, and 
she certainly improves on acquaintance. She is not pretty, nor 
is she a very remarkable singer; but she has an indefinable 
magnetism. She is large to stoutness, and gives you an im- 
pression of perfect health. Her eyes are expressive, and 
she makes the most of them. Her mouth is j^retty to a 
point of perilousness. She acts admirably such parts as Offen- 
bach's, and often sings deliciously. In some scenes she proves 
that she has power beyond what she shows, and is lost for the 
moment in her art. 

Schneider is not a hypocrite. She says she lives for pleas- 
ure, and seeks it wherever it can be found. Her salary is very 
large for Europe — over eight hundred francs a night — and froin 
her admirers she receives large sums of money and the richest 
presents. But she spends all she receives, and is often in 
debt. 

The women of Paris are rarely handsome in respect to the 
rule-and-line mode of judging. Their features are seldom 
regular ; but their faces are interesting, with so much and such 
ever-changing expression, that one is likely to forget how they 
look. Their eyes are fine, and their noses, though frequently 
retrousse, are adapted to their other features, and lend piquancy 
to the whole. It is to be regretted that they often mar their 
faces by excess of rouge, and by blackening their eyelashes, 
eyebrows, and lids. Their manners are engaging, but it 
would be better if the women themselves were less artificial. 
No man can determine, under ordinary circumstances, whether 
nature or the modiste made them. After he has won an 
angel, he cannot be sure she will not melt, under intimate ac- 
quaintance, into an unesthetic mass of whalebone, cotton, and 
sawdust. 

The women look best between nineteen and twenty. After 
twenty-five or thirty they often grow tawny and shrivelled, and 
old women in France when homely, are very homely. They 
don't become thin and over-spiritualized, like the Americans, 



HOMELY SERVANTS IN DEMAND. 145 

nor SO stout nor material as the English. Some of them 
wither up and darken until they bear a close resemblance to 
smoked herrings. 

Not a few of the fairest of the sex are the demi-mondeists 
and cocottes. A very good-looking -girl is with difficulty kept 
in any hotel, store or shop in Paris for any length of time. 
She is in danger of being persuaded to lead the life of a lorette, 
rather than earn her bread by honest industry. So much is 
this the case that pretty girls cannot easily get places ; for it is 
feared they won't stay more than a few days. Their vanity is 
so easily excited — and they are singularly sentimental, what- 
ever their station in life — that when some designing fellow 
tells them they are beautiful, and gives them a trinket, their 
head is fairly turned, and their usefulness as clerks is in peril. 

Homely servants, and saleswomen, and accountants are, 
therefore, in demand, and the demand must be freely met, from 
the number of sallow, cross-eyed, unattractive creatures in the 
cafes, shops, and theatres. It speaks ill for the morals of the 
community that a woman can't be handsome and keep a posi- 
tion in a public place. Thousands of girls are educated and 
grow up with the expectation of entering into the demi-monde. 
They have no hope of marriage. They do not want to work. 
They have an insatiable fondness for display, for admiration, 
for pleasure, for affection. The consequence is, they go to the 
protection of the first man who is liberal with his purse and loose 
in his notions, Not trained to virtue, without abhorrence of 
unchastity, with a code of morals that exists nowhere else, they 
follow a life of gayety and pleasure without regret or remorse. 
If they sin much, they love much. Sensuous and sentimental 
pagans as they are, when favor deserts and fortune frowns, they 
kiss their faded flowers, and old love-letters, quote a phrase 
from Lamartine or Dumas, light the charcoal, and are at rest. 

Who blames them, poor creatures ? Man, who is always 
responsible for them, is cruel when he casts at them the smallest 
stone. 

The American women, of whom so many are constantly 
in Paris, are greatly admired there. Nor is it strange; 
10 



146 ECONOMY OF LIVING. 

for they are, among all nationalities, strikingly handsome. 
Whenever you notice a pretty woman in Paris you may feel 
almost certain she is an American. On the Champs Elysees, 
at the Bois, at the opera, in the Boulevards, the delicate, spir- 
ituelle, oval, intellectual faces, that peep out like lilies in a gar- 
den, are unmistakably those of our countrywomen. They are 
known all over the Continent for their rare beauty, and lauded 
from the Yolga to the Seine, At the Grand Hotel you see 
more pretty women than anywhere else in Paris. Some of 
them are like peacocks — beautiful only when silent. But there 
are many who talk as they look ; who are entirely elegant and 
well-bred ; who have the fine magnetism and fragrance that 
render the plainest women lovely. 

Paris, though a city of luxury, is not necessarily, therefore, 
a city of extravagance. You can live exactly as you please — 
for five hundred francs a day, or for five, if you like. After 
numerous experiments, I have discovered that a man can have 
more comfort there for a small amount of money than any- 
where else in the world. If he attempts to make a show, or 
seeks fashionable quarters, he must, of course, be careless of 
his purse. That is true of all places. Having dined and 
lodged all the way from the Boulevard des Capucines and the 
Grand Hotel to the Quartier Latin, and the lodging-houses of 
the Hue Monsieur le Prince, I have found that a bachelor 
can be well fed, well lodged, well clad, and have reasonable 
incidental expenses, for eighty francs a week — about sixteen 
dollars gold. He can live better on that amount than he can 
in New York for twice the sum, 

A native citizen declares that no unmarried man needs 
more than thirty-eight hundred francs ($760) a year to be en- 
tirely happy in Paris, and all he expends above that is foolish 
extravagance. 

" But Paris is no place for married people," the reader says. 
It is not very favorable to wedlock for those who go there sin- 
gle; but for those who are already wedded, and have been 
struggling to keep up appearances in America on a smaU in- 
come, it is excellent, I wonder more of our New York fami- 



VIRTUE REWARDED. 147 

lies don't emigrate there. They get along poorly enough at 
home with their $2,000, or $3,000, or $4,000 a year ; while in 
that city they conld be very comfortable. They could get ex- 
cellent apartments, instead of being obliged to rent a whole 
house at an enormous rate. They could educate their children 
far better than on this side of the Atlantic, and, on the 
whole, the change would be for the better. 

La Ferine, the popular news-dealer, who occupies the kiosk 
in front of the Grand Hotel, is an instance of the benefit of 
paragraphs. Two years ago she was very poor, and for weeks 
knew not whether to walk into the wide-open doors of the 
demi-monde or the silent waters of the Seine. An orphan, 
five-and-twenty, bred in the provinces, she went to the me- 
tropolis to earn her bread — not handsome nor educated, but 
still rather interesting, A journalist met her, and liked her, 
and wished her to become his mistress. She said she had come 
to Paris to take care of her body, not to sell it : that she was 
without money, but no man was rich enough to buy her con- 
sciousness of honor and her self-esteem. 

The sentiment was cheap enough ; can be heard any night 
ad nauseam on the Bowery stage ; but it impressed the writer 
for the press as something extraordinary. A woman neither 
old nor hideous, and in Paris, too, yet determined to be virtu- 
ous, was a revelation to him. Interested before, he was fasci- 
nated now. Strange to say, considering his nationality, she 
awoke in him a feeling of severe respect, instead of driving 
him from her through wounded vanity. He advised her to 
set up a news-stand, and he rented a kiosk — the best one in 
the Boulevards — for her for three months. Then he began to 
write paragraphs about La Perine — the influence of the daily 
press is immense in that city — and before a week she had 
secured a liberal patronage. In a month she became the fash- 
ion ; for the journalist is connected with the brightest and clev- 
erest sheet in Paris; and now she is earning quite a little 
fortune. 

La Perine is famous. Her photographs are in the win- 
dows; songs are written about her; every one stops at her 



148 



A SHREWD PARTNER. 



kiosk to look at her. She is called beautiful, because sbe is 
celebrated. Her admirer will not allow her trade to languish. 
He keeps her before the public in all varieties of epigram. At 
one time she seemed waning in popularity. A little fiction 
about an attempt to carry her off, as she was going home late 
at night, fully reestablished her, and she may now be deemed 
a permanent feature of the Boulevards. 





CHAPTER XVII. 

NOVELTIES OF PARIS. 

I HE reputation of Paris is tliat of the wick- 
edest of cities. If it be so, it is likewise 
the most decorous. It may be that sin is 
less sinful by redemption from coarseness. 

The French seem to hold this view, and 
preserve an external show of graceful de- 
cency rarely found in any other nation. If you wish to be- 
lieve in- the elegance and refinement of Parisian life, do not 
go below the surface. Under the blandest manners and the 
warmest professions of regard, nestle brutal ferocity and ab- 
sorbing selfishness. Behind downcast eyes and dainty talk 
may lie utter heartlessness and supreme sensuality. Paris is 
no worse than London, Vienna, or New York ; but it does 
not pretend to ignore the vices all great cities have, and it cer- 
tainly makes them less dangerous by recognizing their exist- 
ence. 

The French capital is, on many accounts, the most decep- 
tions in Europe, and, therefore, the most agreeable to those 
unacquainted with its inner life. If the Parisians avowed 
what they felt, and put their acts into words, they who ad- 
mire would be repelled, and they who praise would de- 
nounce. Their proverb, " What can't be said can be sung, 
and what can't be sung can be done," is characteristic of the 
peculiar people. They call common things by fine words, and 
do what they would deem it barbarous to speak. 

Those who have been behind the scenes must regret they 
have stripped ofi" so much of the illusion, and can only console 



150 THE COCOTTES. 

themselves with the thought that they have reached the truth. 
No one who has been troubled with a morbid longing for the 
facts that underlie appearances there, and has resolved to pen- 
etrate 4;hem, can be induced to tell exactly what those facts 
were, or how they impressed him. Experience has its own 
privacy. Illusions are sweet, particularly in Paris, and there 
they should be cherished in all earnestness. 

The hals de nuit of the city are among its novelties, and, 
of course, strangers who would not think of patronizing such 
places at home, visit them there. They are extremely popu- 
lar, both with the French and with foreigners. The Yalen- 
tino, Casino, the Chateau Rouge, the Closerie de Lilas, and 
famous Jardin Mabille, are among the best known. They are * 
very much ahke in character, being participated in by cocottes 
of the town and their admirers, and attended by the miscella- 
neous public. 

The Yalentino and Casino — in the heart of the city and 
under cover — are generally closed in warm weather, because 
then the al fresco places take precedence. 

The price of admission is three or four francs for men, and 
one franc, or nothing, for women. The ballroom is arranged 
with considerable taste, brilliantly lighted, and excellent music 
is furnished. Any one can dance who wishes. The women 
can be had for the asking, for a bouquet and a bottle of wine. 
They are very ready to be the partner of any stranger, for 
they believe the acquaintance may prove advantageous. 

Not a few of the cocottes are pretty and genteel. They are 
all young, and have the engaging manner so common to the 
French. They are dressed very well, though with more of a 
view to physical display than modesty. They seem in the 
best of spirits, and are wholly free from that hardness and con- 
strained gayety that mark the frail sisterhood in our country. 
They seem to have violated no law of their being by the life 
they lead. They appear born and fitted to it. If they have 
any aspiration above and beyond it, they do not show it. 
Their training has been peculiar — they have little to look for- 
ward to, and little to regret. To enjoy themselves through the 



THE DANCE PLACES. 151 

senses, to dress well, to be admired, is all they wish. With a 
new robe, a bottle of Bordeaux, a bright afternoon, and an in- 
dulgent friend, they have all they require. They have a ca- 
pacity to live in the hour, in the moment, which is quite for- 
eign to the Anglo-Saxon race. While the wine flows, and 
laughter ripples, and kisses blossom, they have no care for to- 
morrow, no memory of yesterday. In the midst of the dance, 
while they whirl under the gaslight with flushed cheeks, and 
throbbing bosoms, and sparkling eyes, they are as happy as 
they can be , for the madness of the hour fills them to over- 
flowing, and their bodies are steeped in the intoxication of the 
senses. They ought to be very miserable ; but they are 
nothing of the kind, and only sickness, or old age, or poverty, 
can bring them discontent. When that comes, a few centimes 
will buy charcoal, and then obli\don and a pauper's grave. 

The Yalentino and Casino usually close at midnight, and 
the Chateau Rouge is frequently dull. The Closerie is the 
most varied and natural, for there the French students and 
artists of the Latin Quarter go for what they consider a de- 
lightful revel. They take their mistresses, and drink, and 
laugh, and make merry, after a very intense fashion. Such 
grimaces, such antics, such badinage, such drollery, can't be 
witnessed elsewhere. They have masquerades every now and 
then, and the costumes and masks are of the most remarkable 
kind. More license is permitted then, and they accept it to 
the fullest. They are said to have limitations in their extrava- 
gance, but I can't see what the limitations are. If there is 
anything more they can do, it is difficult to conceive. 

The Closerie is the most eccentric of the dance-places, and 
gives a very correct, though not very favorable, idea of the 
student hfe of Paris. Not infrequently quarrels begun there 
lead to duels ; but there are never any blows or knock-doMois, 
as with us. Frenchmen of culture rarely strike each other. 
They offer insults, and fight with weapons. The use of the 
fist is deemed a brutahty among the educated classes. 

The Mabille is the most attractive place for the balls, and 
is seen at its height in summer. On a warm evening, and the 



152 DROLL DOINGS. 

occasion of a fete, the garden is crowded, strangers being in 
the majority. Church-members of culture and position, from 
this side of the Atlantic, go to the Mabille sometimes on ac- 
count of its notoriety ; but they would deny the fact stoutly, 
if charged with it at home. 

The dancers, almost without exception, are professionals. 
The women are elaborately prepared for the entertainment 
they give. They wear street dresses, but are otherwise clad 
like ballet-girls. When they begin dancing they are often 
decorous ; but as the evening advances, and they warm with 
exercise and wine, they give themselves the largest freedom. 
If they were on the stage in short skirts, you would think 
nothing of their poses and pirouettes ; but in the ordinary 
apparel, their movements seem very different. 

What they suggest is even more than what they do. While 
executing a single quadrille, they leap, and kick, and whirl 
about in a most bewildering manner. But even such dancing 
is eclipsed by the can-can, which, as executed there, is simply 
lasciviousness set to music. It has often been said that the 
can-can at the opera bouffe in New York is more licentious 
than at the Mabille in Paris. Those who make the statement 
are either ignorant or they wilfully misrepresent. The can- 
can could not be danced in America as it is at the Mabille or 
the Closerie. 

They do droll things in Paris. Not long since, as the 
story goes, a Frenchman in good position, wishing to get rid 
of his wife, and having no excuse for separation, introduced 
his friend to her, with the express understanding that the friend 
should use his best endeavoi'S to win her heart. The husband, 
of course, furnished the largest opportunities to the two to be 
together, and treated his spouse so coolly that she became con- 
vinced of his indifference. The friend, on the contrary, was 
gallant, tender, and devoted ; was always in madame's society, 
and actually became very fond of her. The desired result was 
brought about ; but to conceal their plot against the woman, 
the two men had a sham duel, and, after firing their balless 
pistolsj got merry over Beaujolais at Yefour's. 



AN AFFECTING ROMANCE. 153 

All three are contented. Feminine hearts and mascnline 
consciences are so elastic on the Seine they can accommodate 
themselves to every situation. 

An artist who carved the group of dancers before the new 
opera house, was violently attacked, by some of the critics, for 
his work. The statue is really meritorious ; but the sculptor 
was likely to be ruined by the censure heaped upon him, par- 
ticularly as he had no reputation. The poor fellow was in 
despair ; but one of his friends unknown to him, had a rem- 
edy for his woe. 

The friend employed somebody to throw a bottle of ink on 
the statue, and for days its whiteness bore the vast black stain. 
Everybody that passed on the Boulevards observed the marble ; 
denounced the vandalism ; grew into sympathy with the artist, 
and praised his statue. Photographs, by the hundred,, were 
taken of the group, and it and its carver became famous. The 
artist's fortune is made, and all by a little ink, which, however, 
properly bestowed, has often had a similar effect. 

Passing the Morgue one day, I thought I would step in. 
There were several bodies there, one of them that of a young 
woman. While regarding it attentively through the glass, 
and imagining what the departed life had been, a well-dressed 
man came up, touched his hat, and asked me if I were a writer 
for the press. 

The question was impertinent; but I make it a rule in 
travelling not to repress any one likely to give me information. 

I replied affirmatively. 

" I thought I was right," said the man ; " for I believed 
by the expression of your face you were arranging the life of 
that poor creature (pointing to the corpse) into different chap- 
ters. Our Parisian journalists are constantly looking for ma- 
terial here. They search for fueilletons all over Paris. Do 
you know the history of that young woman ?" 

" I do not, indeed." 

" Hers was a sad fate. To think she should have come to 
such an end after all ! " 

" Did you know her, then ? " I inquired, my interest rising. 



•154 A GOOD STORY SPOILED. 

"Of course; everybody knew her. You remember Cla- 
risse Demorne, whom they used to call 'La Belle Eeine' ?" 

" I never heard of her." 

" That is strange. Would you like to ? I remember her 
when she was lovely as an angel, and all eyes followed her 
gilded carriage in the Bois." 

" Yes ; I should be glad to learn her history." 

Then the man told, in very graceful style, that the poor 
woman who lay there on the slab was, a few years ago, the 
queen of the demi-monde, and considered the most beautiful 
woman in Paris. She was for a long while the mistress of 

Count de M , who left her when he married. Then she 

found a protector in a Kussian prince, who gave her a splendid 
establishment. Season after season she floated on a bright 
stream of pleasure. At last she fell in love with a wretched 
croupier at Ems. She became his wife. He spent every franc 
she had, and abused her shamefully. He broke her spirit and 
her heart. She lived in poverty for months at Cologne, and 
returned last spring to Paris, a wreck of her former self. 
That morning her body was found in the Seine. 

This he related at length, and with so many embellish- 
ments, with so much of a professional story-teller's manner, 
that I handed him a couple of francs for his trouble, when he 
had concluded. After he had walked away I began to doubt 
his authority, for he knew too much of Clarisse Demorile for 
any man who had not been her confidante. Desirous to satisfy 
myself, I asked one of the officials at the Morgue, and learned 
that the body was that of an unfortunate blind beggar, who, 
coming to the Seine for water, had fallen in and been drowned. 
The corpse had just been identified. I mentioned the tale of 
mv informant, and the official laughed, saying, " He is a racon- 
teur (a tale-teller), who was once a writer of novels, and who, 
it is said, now makes a livelihood by furnishing plots and situ- 
ations for authors and dramatists. He is naturally a flaneur 
(loafer) ; too lazy to work, he is contented to get a few francs, 
and narrate his imaginary experiences over a bottle of wine, to 
his boon companions in the Quartier Latin." 




CHAPTER XYIII. 

ROMANCE AND MUKDEK IN PARIS. 

^l^ HERE is nothing the gay capital of civi- 
lization enjoys more than a first-class 
^^Vv murder — one of the grand, melodramatic 
sort, fairly swimming in blood, and brist- 
ling with mystery and horror. One 
would imagine that a people so vivacious, 
so sensitive, so artistic, so sensuous, 
would shrink from the details of terrible crime; that, what- 
ever fascination blood might have had for them originally, 
their dreadful Revolution would have cured them forever. 
Their life, their art, their literature, prove otherwise. They 
are a nation of opposites • they are full of light and shadow, 
of merriment and melancholy, of superficiality and profundity, 
of self-indulgence and self-sacrifice, of frivolity and heroism. 
They are master-cooks and master-dancers ; but they are great 
thinkers and great doers also. 

They give us our fashions in dress and our best treatises on 
military warfare. They invent new soups and discover new 
planets on the same day. They publish charmingly question- 
able stories and the deepest studies of science. Their women, 
the most graceful and engaging in the world, leave off flirta- 
tion to ponder the most abstruse problems of astronomy ; and 
quit Calculus to devour with caresses the man they love. 
The French deserve to be called the modem Greeks ; and yet 
the two are very unhke. The French have no parallel ; for 
with all their variations they are consistent. Perhaps it is true 
that there are two kinds of nature — human nature and French 



156 LOVE OF SENSATION. 

nature ; but French nature seems often to have the better of 
it. No nation has been more misunderstood, in spite of its 
prodigies of performance ; and it is only now the French are 
beginning to get full credit for their versatility and greatness. 
Their cleverness in little things withdrew attention from their 
accomplishment of great things. Their prowess in war and 
their progress in science were forgotten while their ragouts 
and ballet-dances were remembered. 

I was in Paris at the time of the famous Traupmann 
murder, and it was curious to notice how completely the city 
surrendered itself to the prevailing sensation. It wholly out- 
did any American city in its hunger for the latest news, about 
which it usually cares very little. Nothing was talked of but 
the tragedy of Aubervilliers. It engrossed every grade of 
society. Speculators on the Bourse, before they spoke of the 
quotation of rentes, inquired about Traupmann. Even Louis 
Napoleon's health, which was as common a topic in France as 
the weather in America, lost its interest. The kiosks on the 
Boulevards were besieged long before the daily journals were 
issued. Duchesses and the demi-mondeists, grave ministers and 
austere priests, the members of the Academy and the street 
gamins, all pored over the highly spiced accounts in the Gai/r 
lois and Figaro. Such heavy journals as the Pays and Monv- 
teur, generally sought only for their soporific effects, abandoned 
themselves to the raging mania. They discussed the murder 
in all its bearings, and furnished the very latest intelligence 
from Pantin and the Mazas, where the assassin was confined. 

Every man, woman and child in Paris had a theory re- 
specting the murder, and the gossiping journalists were in a 
positive state of beatitude at the opportunity afforded them 
for interweaving endless fancies with their slender facts. In 
every edition they improved upon the story. The murderer 
and the murdered were Kmned in most fantastic colors. Poor 
Madame Kinck, a very plain, uneducated Alsatian peasant 
grew to be a beautiful and accomplished woman, and her chil- 
dren perfect cherubim in loveliness. 

The French writers will not permit anything to appear in 



A BEWILDERED WAITER. 157 

print as it really is. It must first receive a Parisian varnish, 
consisting of a strong mixture of sentiment and melodrama, 
and be treated artistically. 

The Parisians love the terrible no less than the tender, the 
shocking no less than the sentimental. 

The man who, some years ago, in the Rue St. Honore, cut 
off his mistress' head and buried it with flowers, left a senti- 
mental note declaring he killed her because he loved her; fled 
to Spain, turned priest, and was afterward killed in a duel 
about a woman, was thoroughly French. "Whatever their 
idiosyncrasies, they are agreeable and interesting, none the 
less because they are self-conscious in the extreme, and live 
only for the world. 

Paris does not expect any man to lead a life of strict 
celibacy. I remember this story told by a young companion 
and countryman : 

I used to be amused at the bewildered air of the gargon^ 
who brought my coffee to my lodgings in the morning. When 
I rang the bell, and ordered coffee for one, he seemed incapa- 
ble of understanding it. 

" For two ? monsieur said." 

"No; for one, gar§on." 

" But the coffee-pot will not hold two cups." 

"I don't want two cups, gargon." 

" Ah, yes (musingly), when young people are very fond, 
they like to drink out of the same cup. Monsieur should be 
French, for he is gallant." 

" I have no one to drink out of the cup with me. I want 
it for myself alone. Go, and do as I bid you." 

The gargon, looking distrust, departs lingeringly. 

The next morning he is very attentive, as if I required 
comforting, and I give him something for his solicitude. 

The third morning he indulges the hope that Mademoi- 
selle is well, and is confident she must be happy. Amused 
at the fellow's pertinacity, I inform him I do not know Made- 
moiselle, and have no desire to. At this he lieaves a deep sigh, 
and casts a look of profound pity upon me. The fourth 



158 A POPULAR SINGER. 

evening and the fifth his face preserves its sadness. On the 
sixth he begs to inquire the land of my nativity, and I tell 
him. On the seventh he loiters in the apartment, and, seeing 
he has something on. his mind, I ask him what he has to say. 
Then he relieves himself as follows* "America must be a 
strange country. Do all the men there hate women ? " 

That is very like a Frenchman. He concludes that any 
gentleman who may choose to breakfast alone for a week 
must necessarily be an uncompromising enemy of all woman- 
kind. 

Theresa, who, from some inexplicable cause, preserves her 
popularity, appeared in Za Cliatte Blanche up to the time of 
the siege of Paris, and sang several songs, one or two of a 
pathetic character. The audience grew wild over her; and 
yet there was something positively grotesque to my mind in a 
coarse, vulgar-looking woman, who might have been imported 
from Billingsgate, attempting to touch the heart with a few 
indifferently executed bars of ordinary music. 

On the day when aU mysteries are revealed, it will perhaps 
be known how a common creature like Theresa found it possi- 
ble to fascinate the fastidious and elegant Parisians. 

The original of Camille now lies in Pere la Chaise, under 
a plain marble monument, marked simply, '■''Par amour d 
Marie Duj)lessisy Such was the real name of the renowned 
lorette, who was a beautiful, elegant, and accomplished woman. 
She led very much such a life as Dumas, Jils, has described in 
his play. After two years of gilded dissipation, a young 
and very romantic physician met her at an opera ball. They 
fell in love with each other, and he wanted to marry her at 
once. She would not permit him to do so ; but she dismissed 
her admirers, gave up her establishment, bought a pretty cot- 
tage near Versailles, and invited him to it. He held the tran- 
scendental doctrine that true love restores to a woman the 
chastity she has lost ; but still she would not be her friend's 
wife on account of his family, which was good, but not in pros- 
perous circumstances. The physician — the Armand of the, 
drama — ^was infatuated with Marie, said to have been a charm- 



THE ORIGINAL CAMILLE. 159 

ing creature, in spite of her unconventional life, full of good- 
ness and charity, graces, and aspirations. She was a sentimen- 
talist, and had never accepted the protection of a man she was 
not fond of. When the young physician came, he was her 
ideal ; for he was fresh in feeling, chivalrous in conduct, poetic 
in temperament. Willing to sacrifice everything for him, she 
could not bear to bind him to her by a tie he might regret. 

Marie and her lover dwelt together after the Arcadian fash- 
ion, near Versailles, until the father interfered. Of course, 
the old gentleman had no objection to his son having a mis- 
tress — that is the rule in Paris — but he was unwilling his 
only boy should give up his profession and all ambition for a 
lorette. He saw them both, and read them a moral lecture. 
Marie besought her friend to leave her ; at least to travel for a 
year ; that, hard as was the sacrifice, she was willing to make 
it for the love that is above all passion. So urged by his mis- 
tress and his father, he went to Italy for two years. 

When he had been gone ten months, Marie, who had lived 
the life of a recluse, died, the medical men said, of rapid con- 
sumption ; the sentimentalists declared, of a broken heart. 
Her elegant furniture at the cottage was sold. Her death 
made a noise in Paris, and the auction created a sensation. A 
crowd was present, and, among other literary men, young 
Dumas. He bought a diamond ring that Marie had worn, and 
carried it home. Two months after a pale youth called on 
Dumas to see if he could purchase the ring. The youth was 
Marie's lover — the Armand of the drama. He told the author 
his story, and " Camille " was the consequence. 

The lover did not expect to live through the winter. He 
is alive now, a husband and father, having married a fortune 
and a widow. 

Usually, the French, like the German students, are not very 
attractive in person, manners, or character. Nor are they roman- 
tic or distingue in appearance. On the contrary, they are usu- 
ally commonplace, under- bred, material, and selfish, and the life 
they lead is enough to demoralize St. Jerome. I have never seen 
but one model student at the Closerie. He had a pale, classical 



160 CONVENIENCE OF SPEAKING FRENCH. 

face, wore a dark moustaclie and long hair falling over a broad 
Byron collar, a black velvet coat and top boots. He was about 
one-and-twenty, but had evidently exhausted his capacity for 
emotion. He did not dance, and all the entreaties of the young 
women could not prevail upon him. He lounged through 
the crowd smoking his pipe, wholly indifferent to the clamor 
and dissipation around him. Ko terms of endearment won 
him. He unloosed himself laughingly from caressing arms and 
dechned offered lips at every turn. 

"You know J.' love you," cried a little creature, "and yet 
you turn away from me as if I were not pretty." 

" Yes, my child," he answered patronizingly ; " I have 
learned my rdle. You are willing to come to my heart be- 
cause you know you cannot bring me to your feet. If you 
thought I really cared for you, you would desert me to-morrow. 
You women worship what you cannot reach. Love is for boys, 
philosophy for men ; " and the yomig coxcomb sauntered off, 
blowing clouds of smoke. 

I have frequently heard that persons who speak nothing 
but English get along very readily on the Continent. I don't 
see how they do it ; for I found that my French, much as I had 
forgotten of it, stood me in good stead. The language may 
not be absolutely necessary ; but it is certainly very convenient. 
It must be awkward in the extreme to be in a foreign country 
and not know a word of its tongue. Such ignorance ought to 
contribute to the development of a man's pantomimic powers. 
I have seen persons entirely undemonstrative naturally, gestic- 
ulating to the drivers of cabriolets, keepers of restaurants, 
and valets de place in a manner that would have done credit 
to the Kavels. In their efforts to make themselves understood 
they wasted more mental force than would have been required 
to obtain a tolerable acquaintance with the French stock phrases 
so convenient for the Continent. 




1. PONT NEUF, PARIS. 2. THE TTHLEKIEi?, PARIS. 3. THE SENATE 01 FRANCE, 




CHAPTER XIX. 

CATACOMBS OF PAKI8. 

HE Catacombs of Paris are a city of the dead 
underneath the beautiful capital of France, 
and contain a silent population nearly double 
that above ground. It is estimated that they 
hold the remains of about three millions and 
a half of human beings, while not more than two 
millions live in the upper world. 

The Catacombs of Paris are not, strictly speaking, 
subterranean places for burying the dead as they are in 
Egypt, Home, ISTaples and Palermo. They were originally 
the quarries out of which the stone was taken for building 
pm-poses. They lie under the southern part of the city, and 
completely undermine the observatory, the Luxembourg Palace, 
the Pantheon Church, La Harpe, St. Jacques, Vaugirard and 
many other streets in that quarter. Their extent is something 
like three millions of square yards, one-tenth of the whole 
surface occupied by the gay city. The Catacombs are proba- 
bly twelve or thirteen hundred years old, and long before they 
were used as cemeteries, which was of recent date, thieves, 
robbers, murderers and criminals of every kind sought refuge 
there from justice and the law. 

In 1Y84, some part of the quarries gave way, and it became 
necessary for skilful engineers to descend into them, and make 
them more secure, lest the houses and streets above them 
should break through the thin shell, and cause great destruc- 
tion of property and life. 

While the engineers were at work, it was determined to 
11 



y 

162 AN UNDERGROUND EXCURSION. 

remove tlie dead from the graves of the Cemetery of the Inno- 
cents, which stood on the site of the present principal market, 
known as the Halles Centrales. No better or more fitting 
place could be found for the deposit of the remains, than those 
ancient excavations. Other burial places required to be re- 
moved, and consequently on the Yth of April, 1786, the Cata- 
combs were formally consecrated to the purpose to which they 
have since been devoted. The himian bones were taken from 
the cemeteries at night, in funeral cars, accompanied by priests 
chanting the Catholic service for the dead, and on arrival at 
the Catacombs, were thrown down a shaft in such a helter- 
skelter manner, that the relics of noblemen and peasants, 
reformers and robbers, poets, bishops, wealthy merchants and 
beggars were irretrievably mixed together. The bones from 
one cemetery were kept apart from those of another ; but 
beyond this no order was followed until 1810, when a regular 
plan of arrangement was begun. 

There used to be no difficulty in obtaining admission to the 
Catacombs ; but the occurrence of a number of accidents and 
the insecurity of the gloomy vaults prevented the authorities 
from opening them to the public more than once a year — 
about the first of October — when a limited number of persons, 
after obtaining tickets from the Inspector-General of the quar- 
ries, are allowed to accompany him in his annual tour of in- 
spection. There are forty or fifty entrances ; but the principal 
one is at the Barriere d'Enfer — a gloomy name for a gloomy 
place — and it was there I entered them last Autumn, having a 
curiosity to see how dismal they were. 

As usually happens, quite a party had assembled to make 
the excursion. We had provided ourselves with wax tapers or 
candles, each of us lighting and carrying one as we went 
through the doorway down a circular flight of ninety stone 
steps. At the bottom are a number of galleries running in 
different directions. A guide placed himself at our head, and 
asking if we were all ready, we set out on the melancholy 
journey. 

The first passage in which we found ourselves, and which, 



UNKNOWN PASSAGES. 163 

like many others, is hewn out of the solid rock, is three or fonr 
feet wide, and about six feet high, making it difficult for more 
than two persons to walk abreast, and compelling tall men to 
stoop somewhat. There were several Americans and English- 
men in our parly whom nature evidently had not designed for 
such explorations. Their hats and heads frequently came in 
contact with the rocky ceiling much to their annoyance, and 
they declared that, if they remained down there for any length 
of time, they must either be shortened or become round- 
shouldered. 

The Catacombs are laid out like a city with different passa- 
ges corresponding to streets, the names carved at the top, and 
two arrows painted on the wall, one pointing to the interior 
and the other to the main entrance. The walls were damp and 
frequently wet ; the water not only dropping from the roof, 
but sometimes running through in streams, and showing now 
and then large cracks and crevices as if the whole might tum- 
ble down over our heads, and either crush us or bury us alive. 
I observed, indeed, that in some places the roof had fallen in, 
and I could not help but notice that not a few of my com- 
panions felt very nervous lest they should never get out of the 
dreary caverns. One or two Englishmen seemed to be very 
angry at themselves for going into what they called such a 
"blasted 'ole," and expressed much indignation at the authori- 
ties for bringing them into it, evidently forgetting that they 
had sought the permission which had been somewhat reluc- 
tantly granted. 

As we walked or rather groped along in the darkness, only 
feebly lighted by our flickering candles, we occasionally passed 
a deep hole or pit. I lowered my light without being able to 
discover anything but a very deep and impenetrable blackness. 
I also noticed a number of passages branching off from that 
in which we were, and I was on the point of exploring some 
of them until informed by the guide that it was strictly forbid- 
den, as any one was likely to lose his way, and die of starvation 
before he could be found. "We turned several comers, and 
learned from the guide-board that we were under the Sceaux 



164 A GHOSTLY EXPERIENCE. 

railway station, more than three hundred yards from the place 
wliere we had entered. "We could tell from the names cut in 
the walls under what streets or buildings we were, and it 
seemed very strange we should now be beneath a boulevard or 
avenue, and then under some church or public institution 
which we had walked in and visited frequently without think- 
ing that the famous Catacombs were only forty or fifty feet 
below. 

In less than twenty minutes we reached the door leading 
into the enclosure containing the remains of the dead. Over 
the door is a Latin inscription, " Within these boundaries repose 
those who wait a blessed immortality." We stepped inside 
and found ourselves in the presence of what seemed to be 
millions of skeletons heaped up on every hand. The passages 
we had entered were broader and much higher than those we 
had gone through, and closer observation showed me that what 
I had supposed to be skeletons were merely bones and skulls 
piled on each side nearly to the roof, which is soma ten feet in 
height. The bones exposed to view are the arm, leg and thigh 
bones with three rows of skulls at equal distances, while the 
smaller bones of the body are thrown in behind. 

The skulls with the ghastly holes where the eyes had been, 
and the upper jaws partially filled with teeth, glared vacantly 
and grinned hideously upon each other, and uj^on us as we 
passed along. And in the light and shadow our candles cast 
upon the dismal scene, the skulls appeared as if they were 
moving to and fro in some wild and ten-ible dance of death. 
It was, indeed, a series of chambers of horrors in which the 
ghosts of hundreds of years seemed making a mournful mim- 
icry of the life they had left. A damp and grave-like odor 
filled the air, and when we spoke our voices sounded hollow 
and dismal, as if we ourselves were dying in the presence of 
the dead. 

In some places, I observed skulls arranged in the form of a 
cross set into the wall — an association of death and religion 
which would have delighted the monks of the old time, and 
would no doubt be pleasant in the sight of many of the holy 



APPROPRIATE INSCRIPTIONS. 165 

fathers still occupying the monasteries of Kome. Some of the 
skulls had bullet-holes through them, and were those of men 
killed during the revolutions. Many others belonged to the 
victims of the guillotine so actively employed during the 
terrible massacres of 1793. Several of the galleries led to 
chambers, somewhat resembling chapels, and called " Tomb of 
the Revolution," and " Tomb of Yictims," because in them are 
preserved the remains of those beheaded or killed during the 
times when blood flowed hke water in the streets of Paris. 

There was no end of the bone-lined corridors running in 
every direction, and so confused that it vas very easy to lose 
one's way. A number of persons have ai different times been 
lost in the Catacombs, and though most of them have been 
rescued, some have perished miserably. They must have 
striven vainly to get out of the dark labyrinth, until, exhausted 
from terror, weakness and hunger, they could go no further, 
sank down and died. 

The bones in the Catacombs have been taken from more 
than twenty different cemeteries, including the three best 
known, Montmartre, Mont Parnasse and Pere la Chaise, Only 
the poor and unknown persons are removed from the present 
cemeteries. They having had no money, and being without 
friends, are compelled to make room for those who have been 
more fortunate in life, and are even more fortunate in death. 

In addition to the names of the various localities under 
which the passages are, and of the cemeteries from which the 
remains are taken, there are carved upon the walls inscriptions 
in French such as these : 

" Death reduces us all to the same level, and difference of 
rank is lost in the grave." 

" Happy is he who has the hour of death ever before his 
eyes." 

" Be not proud, O mortal, for here thy short-lived glory 
ends." 

" Think of God in the midst of thy pleasure, for God is 
everywhere, and watches over thee always." 

After passing nearly three hours in the Catacombs, one 



166 AMONG THE LIVING. ♦ 

l^art of which is very much like any other, we were conducted 
to a circular staircase, which I supposed the same we had 
descended. Being told we had seen everything worth seeing, 
we went up, and, opening a heavy door, found ourselves more 
than a mile and a half from the spot where we had gone down. 
The fresh air and the bright sunshine and the beautiful city 
greeted us again, and I could not help a feeling of relief after 
my dreary wandering in the darkness and among the dead. I 
remembered the inscription in the Catacombs : " Happy is he 
who has the hour of death ever before his eyes ; " but it seemed 
to me, just then, that he is far happier who is surrounded by 
the joys and the comforts of life. 




CHAPTER XX. 




SOCIAL STATUS OF PAEIS. 

IIE popular notion of Paris, in this coun- 
trjj is that there virtue and women seldom 
coexist. Probably no country on the 
globe is so much misunderstood, morally, 
as France. The women of the capital are 
thought to be wanton as a rule. 
Talk to an American of French domesticity, 
and he would imagine you ironical. According to 
his conception, a Parisian woman, especially if she 
be married, passes her early life in flirtation, and 
becomes loyal only when years have cooled her 
blood and impaired her charms. We even speak 
of French morality, meaning every species of im- 
morality, as if it were the opposite of all established opinions 
upon ethics. 

Such views are not to be wondered at, perhaps, when we 
remember that French literature deals with subjects the Eng- 
lish-speaking people for the most part ignore. It analyzes 
passion ; theorizes upon the relation of the sexes ; gives a sen- 
timental and voluptuous coloring to relations we either deem 
too sacred or too dangerous to write about. Secondly, few 
foreigners, Anglo-Americans notably, have little, if any, ac- 
quaintance with the better part of French society, especially 
in its domestic aspects. Hardly one out of five hundred or a 
thousand of our nation who go abroad, gets a glimpse of the 
life of a French family, or has any comprehension of the feel- 
ings or sympathies of a French wife or mother. Thirdly, the 



168 OUTSIDE AND INSIDE VIEWS. 

demi-monde, recognized, protected, even encouraged as a dis- 
tinct social element, is on the surface, always approachable, 
easily accessible, and from that phase of life, all Paris, all 
France, is judged. 

This is not the place to show how domestic a large part of 
the French, even of the Parisian population, are ; though any 
one who stays in France for any length of time, and seeks for 
information, can readily disabuse his mind of preconceived 
opinions. Paris is preeminently cosmopohtan, the centre to 
which all pleasure-seekers tend, where the senses are adminis- 
tered to in the most agreeable way. The thousands and tens 
of thousands of strangers constantly there, look for gayety ; 
dwell in externals merely, and when curiosity and pleasure are 
gratified, they go elsewhere, forgetting that what they secretly 
condemn, they have greatly assisted to form part of. 

Paris has long been a show-city, and consequently is very 
artificial. It takes no special pains to conceal ; it aims only to 
make decorous. The worst is on the outside ; the best is hid- 
den ; while in America, and England, too, we fancy we extin- 
guish what we merely cover. Our society is perpetually 
being agitated by what the newspapers are pleased to term 
"startling revelations" of a domestic and private character — a 
set of sensations to which Paris is unaccustomed. The reason 
is, that there sin is allowed to escape by open channels. We 
shut it up, and explosions are the result. 

Paris is bad enough ; I have no disposition to be its apolo- 
gist. But that it is so much worse than other great cities, 
London or New York, for instance, I am unwilling to believe. 
Paris has had no political, but it has had moral, freedom ; and 
inasmuch as human nature is very much the same everywhere, 
it by no means follows that where the largest liberty is, there 
is the greatest evil. Hurl deformed -vdce out of the front win- 
dow, and it will re-enter by the back door as tempting sin. 

The demi-monde is largely supported by strangers and 
sojourners in the city. Confine Paris to its native population, 
and that middle world would almost disappear. The expenses 
attendant upon wedded life, and the legal restrictions upon 



MORAL IDEAS OF PARISIANS. 169 

marriages are the chief causeS there of concubinage. Thou- 
sands of men in Paris, not having the means to support a 
household, prefer a mistress to miscellaneous sensuality. The 
French believe the interests of society will, like other interests, 
take care of themselves. We hold that they need to be con- 
served. 

No doubt the Parisians have different moral ideas from our 
own. They do not regard unchastity as an unpardonable sin. 
They consider it more in its spiritual relation than we ; believ- 
ing that a woman may have many virtues without the one, 
and have the one without others — an opinion- the Anglo-Saxon 
mind is slow, if not unwilling to accept. The famous play of 
Camille is an expression of such belief. It was more popular 
and more denounced than any drama produced within my 
memory. It had its earnest defenders and its fierce rebukers ; 
and whether it be true or false, beneficial or pernicious in its 
influence, is still an unsettled question. 

From close and impartial observation, one is led to infer 
that the life of a lorette is not so demoralizing in France as in 
England or America. The demi-monde being recognized, 
the members of it do not suffer so much as with us from re- 
morse, from the feeling of being outcasts. The fall from con- 
ventional to unconventional relations is not so far as in our 
country, and consequently the reaction is not so great. 
Women of this class have more hope, at least less despond- 
ency, more cheerfulness, more of a future, more prospect of 
reformation, than with us. 

" So much the worse for Paris and the cause of morality," 
say some of my readers. " Unchaste women have no right to 
contentment or to expectations. The severer their punish- 
ment, the better the example. By making vice hideous, you 
render ^nrtue attractive." 

My answer again is : "I am not reasoning ; I am not say- 
ing what is better or what is worse. I am merely chronicling. 
Inferences and conclusions gratis to all who wish to draw 
them." 

Parisian loretUs do not become so degraded as ours. 



I'^O THE DEMI-MONDE. 

They do not, from the top round of temptation tumble to the 
lowest round of sensuality, and thence into the kennel of de- 
spair. They do not sink from one impure condition to an im- 
purer, until all sense of shame is lost. They do not, very 
rarely, at least, seek obli\don in strong drink or opium. They 
do not show indecency in the streets. They do not fight and 
make public spectacles of themselves. They do not steal. 
They are not arrested by the police, and sent to prison. They 
far less frequently than our unfortunates commit suicide, or 
die miserably in the hospitals. They are much oftener re- 
claimed by a genuine affection ; and not seldom they are mar- 
ried to men who, knowing what their past has been, forgive 
the fault for the sake of the contrition. 

" That is all wrong," declare the censors. " No one should 
marry such creatures. If impure women can find husbands, 
their hfe, which should be a warning and a torment, is con- 
verted into a pleasant comedy. The possibility of such an 
end to all their sin is dangerous to believe." 

Answer : " That is for the men who marry them to decide. 
Perhaps those men would say, ' It is better to wed a woman 
who confesses impurity, and promises to be pure, her promise 
being guaranteed by gratitude and affection, than to wed a wo- 
man, believing her to be pure, who proves to be otherwise.' " 

There are six spheres in the demi-monde of Paris, each 
distinct, each occupied by women who, being in one, not very 
often enter another. 

The first are women of education and refinement, orphans 
or illegitimate daughters, instructed at the expense of the 
government, who, compelled to earn their own livelihood, are 
thrown into contact with men in a different grade of society. 
The girls form an attachment to the men who are fond of them, 
but not willing to marry them, because the French do not take 
wives or husbands out of their own station. The girls, who 
have probably looked forward to some such connection, become 
the mistresses of their lovers. There is no concealment of the 
fact on either side ; for this community admits of, negatively 
sanctions, such relations. The two live together. She is loyal. 



THE ORISETTE. 171 

for she loves. He supports her — often in luxury. She has 
society like her own, but not his society. The connection con- 
tinues until he is married, frequently after, since marriages in 
France — and this is a fruitful source of such intimacies — is de- 
termined by merely worldly considerations. The separation is 
not so painful as it might be, for it has been anticipated ; 
though occasionally, sad to relate, it makes a tragedy on one 
side, and hfe-long remorse on the other. Frequently men re- 
fuse to marry, and live with their mistresses until death. 

If the mistress abandons, or is abandoned by, her lover, she 
goes into a shop (if not already there), which she can easily 
do, as no tradesman in Paris inquires into moral antecedents. 
Consequently, she is not, as with us, shut out from earning her 
own livelihood, if she desires. Her first passion may have ex- 
hausted her heart, but that seldom happens. She is not long 
in finding a protector, whom she accepts, either for financial 
or sentimental reasons. Her new friend may, or may not, be 
in easy circumstances. Whether he is or not, she follows her 
calling ; has apartments with him ; takes care of them ; is his 
companion at the concerts and theatres and on the evening 
promenades. 

This is the second sphere, which to many poor and unpro- 
tected girls is the first. 

The mistress' new relation does not change her outward 
life. She labors and she loves ; her mind is employed and her 
heart is filled. She is as happy as other women are, for she 
dofes not believe herself polluted or degraded, and she has the 
society of girls whose circumstances are like her own. It 
sometimes happens that excitements and vanities appeal to her 
so strongly that she grows unwilling to work. She wants 
more money and more pleasure. This is regarded by a French- 
man as evidence of disloyalty, actual or prospective; and 
so, when she quits the shop, he quits her. She then becomes 
a mere adventuress, a member of the tliird sphere, or a repre- 
sentative of the fourth, which is a moral decline. 

The adventuress is the most glittering and seductive member 
of the demi-monde. She is usually pretty, tactful and clever ;. 



172 THE ADVENTURESS. 

has substituted art for nature, and her only end is pleasure. 
She is capable of better things, but she needs daily excitement 
as a stimulant. Her continuous revels are to her what brandy 
is to the inebriate. 

" The Marble Hea/rt,^'' familiar to our play-goers, though a 
bad translation, was designed to depict such a being. " Marco" 
was harder and more selfish than the original ; but even she 
melted when too late, and felt pity and affection when she saw 
the ruin she had wrought. 

The notorious Cora Pearl and Mabel Gray,* though both 
English by birth, are types of this class. They have become 
entirely Parisianized, and seldom leave the city during the 
season. I have often seen them at Baden-Baden, and they 
always sparkled on the highest crest of success. 

The adventuress is often an educated girl, who has been so 
wronged by some man as to nearly crush her heart. She may 
be a creature of such high animal spirits, so fond of excite- 
ment, that she is wilhng to purchase ease and luxury at any 
price. She is a power in France, and enjoys her sense of power 
keenly. She is singularly sharpened by her constant inter- 
course with men of the world. Possessed of quick instincts 
and a clear understanding of human nature, able to dissemble 
on all occasions, to counterfeit every emotion, she has a vantage 
ground she never quits. Though everybody knows what she is, 
shrewd men are constantly deceived by her. Those who boast 
of their scepticism and their indifference to wonien, become in- 
fatuated with her, and open their purse to her as freely as they do 
their confidences. While their money lasts they are retained. 
That gone, they are permitted to see what dolts they have been. 

The adventuress has a shining but a brief career — from 
eighteen to thirty-five. After that she finds it difiicult to trade 
upon her faded or fading charms, though sometimes she pre- 
serves herself so admirably, and is such a consummate artist 
wdthal, that she appears young at five-and-forty. The life she 
leads does not wear her out, as might be supposed. Unnatural 

* While tliis volume was going through the press, Mabel Gray died in 
London. 



THE COURTESAN. 173 

as it seems, it is natural to her. Having little conscience or 
heart, she ages slowly, and soft couches, dainty diet and purple 
swathing keep her in fine condition. She does not perish 
wretchedly, as sensationalists declare ; but with a precaution and 
prudence that come to most of the French when 'they are no 
longer young, she provides for her future ; goes into graceful 
retirement ; smokes her cigarette ; grows pious, perhaps ; is 
kind to the poor ; kisses the cross with an unuttered epigram 
upon her lips, and sleeps in Montmartre under a marble figure 
of the Resurrection, 

The inmates of the bagnios are the fourth class, and the 
most melancholy. They are goaded by cruel necessity to rela- 
tions they shrink from. They meet the coarsest and the most 
selfish of men, and deal with a heartless and rapacious pro- 
curess. They snffer as courtesans in America; and, driven 
into the street and to desperation, it is not strange they seek 
death by their own hand. 

The well-dressed and often comely girls that crowd the 
Boulevards every evening are in the fifth sphere. They seldom 
accost any one ; they have good manners, and are decorous in 
speech. They occupy apartments, and find patrons enough to 
support them. With all their extravagances of dress and care- 
lessness of money, they often provide against old age, the terrible 
foe of every woman in Paris. 

The reckless women who assail strangers with importunities 
after midnight, and who are always struggling between want 
and excitement, are the semi-mundanes of the last class. They 
dance at the Mabille for pay ; attend the Chateau Rouge ; dwell 
in the Faubourg St. Antoine or the Quartier Latin; and when 
the burden of being grows too heavy are found with a look 
of peace in their pale faces in the bosom of the Seine. 

So the demi-monde of Paris flows on under sun and cloud, 
through clear lakes and turbid pools, by flowery banks and 
tangled wildwood, murmuring musically and brawling noisily 
over smooth pebbles and rough rocks ; — flows on, let us hope, 
after all its weary and shadowed wanderings, into the vast ocean 
of eternal rest. 



CHAPTEK XXI. 




THE CHIFFONliflEKS OF PAKIS. 

•YEEYTHING- in Paris is reduced to a system. 
All sorts of trades and callings, even the most 
insignificant, are ranked as arts or profes- 
sions. Though preeminently the capital of 
pleasure, it is also the city of business. From build- 
ing opera houses and opening new streets, to gather- 
ing garbage and renting chairs in the public gardens, 
everything is fixed, limited, and regulated. 

Even rag-picking has its established arrangement 
and order, is licensed, recognized, and encouraged by the gov- 
ernment. The rag-pickers of Paris number about six hundred, 
one half of whom are women, and children from nine to twelve 
years of age. They do their work entirely at night ; herd to- 
gether almost exclusively, and present a very singular phase of 
life. They do not confine themselves to rag-picking, but 
gather any articles of small value that may be thrown into the 
street. 

The Parisians are allowed to place any refuse of the house- 
hold in little piles before their doors, between the hours of 
daylight and dark; and after these have been raked by the 
chifibnniers, they are taken away by the rubbish-carts. The 
rag-pickers, who begin their nightly rounds between nine and 
ten o'clock, carry — strapped to their back — a large willow 
basket holding about two bushels, a stick some three feet long, 
with a hook at the end of it, in one hand, and in the other a 
piece of wire, to which a lantern is attached, so that the light 
will show whatever is on the ground. Between ten and twelve 



3I0DE OF OPERATIONS. 175 

o'clock they seem to be in every street, particularly in the new 
part of the city, where their labors are much more remunera- 
tive than on the left side of the Seine, where the most rigid 
economy is so generally practised as to interfere with their 
profits. If I did not know better, I should suppose there were 
several thousands of these pecuhar wanderers in the French 
capital ; for I have seen them almost everywhere at all hours 
of the night, silent, patient, industrious, and persevering. 

The members of this strange class are remarkably skilful, 
and move with the regularity and precision of machines. They 
very seldom speak, for they usually go alone, each one of them 
having his or her particular district, and hardly ever encroach- 
ing upon that of any other. They know the shortest distance 
between any two points in every crooked thoroughfare, and in 
walking from one dirt pile to another show their practical 
understanding of the definition of a mathematical line. With 
their lantern in the left hand, and their stick in the right, 
they can search a pile of rubbish to its length, and depth, 
and breadth in a few seconds. They never miss anything. 
]^ot the smallest object escapes their attention. The tiniest 
rag, scrap of paper, bit of glass, or cork, or bone, or wood is 
transferred at once by the agency of their busy hook, from the 
heap to the basket, and in the twinkling of an eye. Tlieir 
dexterity is remarkable, and proves the perfection which prac- 
tice teaches. They very rarely use their fingers, for they can 
manage everything with their hook. Every few seconds you 
will see a rapid curve of their stick from the pile to the basket, 
and the deposit of the object in the latter is always certain. The 
smallest bit of paper goes into the basket as securely as a good- 
sized fragment of glass ; and, after they are through with the 
dirt heap, it is as absolutely without value as anything that can 
be imagined. 

The chifFonnier does not neglect the gutters, where he fre- 
quently finds the largest of his very slender treasures. He 
rakes them carefully but rapidly, and, discovering what he can 
sell for a centime — one fifth of a cent — considers himself par- 
ticularly fortunate. This country would be a perfect paradise 



176 GREAT PRIZES. 

to him. He would deem himself the luckiest of mortals if he 
lived where old shoes, cigar-stumps, and empty bottles could 
be found in abundance ; though I am not sure such unexam- 
pled prosperity would not soon diive him to dissipation and 
ruin. 

To secure an unbroken bottle in Paris is regarded as a piece 
of rare good-fortune. I remember once throwing out of my 
hotel window, in the Rue St. Honore, several empty wine 
bottles. I thought no more of the circumstance until, two 
nights after, happening to be in the street, I saw at least twenty 
rag-pickers raking in every pile near the hotel. This was so 
unusual — for, as I have said, the chiffonnier almost invariably 
makes his rounds unattended — that I stopped to listen to their 
rapid and excited talk. I learned that the subject of discussion 
was bottles ; that three of them had been found in the neigh- 
borhood in an uninjured state, and that the communication of 
this extraordinary fact by the finder to the fraternity of rag- 
pickers had created an immense sensation. 

Twenty of them had come that night with an anxious hope 
of discovering more bottles, and were of course doomed to 
bitter disappointment. I was so much impressed by their quest 
for what they could not find, that early the next evening I 
employed a servant to bury three entirely new bottles, with 
corks in them, in three difierent heaps of rubbish ; and taking 
a seat at the window about ten o'clock, I quietly awaited the 
result. 

I had been there only a few minutes when fully fifty or 
sixty of the unfortunates of both sexes appeared below, chat- 
tering, gesticulating, and thrusting their hooks into every heap. 
Cries of joy announced the unearthing of the sought-for goods, 
which only stimulated exertion, and kept the rag-pickers in the 
neighborhood for more than an hour. The next night, and the 
night after, the crowd increased, and the investigation contin- 
ued. Before a week was over the tumult became such that the 
gendarmes interfered, and dispersed the chiffonniers under the 
belief, as I suspect, that they were planning an outbreak against 
the imperial power. I refrained thereafter from burying any 



WHERE TEET LIVE. 177 

more bottles, lest they might become the innocent cause of a 
revolution, and the dignity of history be made to suffer by 
chronicling the overthrow of the Empire on account of two or 
three paltry vessels of glass. 

The custom of the rag-pickers is to patronize, between one 
and two in the morning, the cheap wine-shops so numerous in 
the vicinity of the market-houses, and guzzle the poor stuff 
sold at two or three sous a bottle. They remain there, chatting, 
drinking, and smoking, until nearly daylight, when they make 
another round — if they be sober enough — and then dispose of 
what they have picked up, to the petty merchants, whose reg- 
ular customers they are. For the contents of their baskets 
they get from one to five francs — twenty cents to one dollar 
of our money. 

These rag-merchants, or, more properly, refuse-buyers, em- 
ploy a number of men and women to sort out from the con- 
fused mass the articles that naturally belong together. As 
may be supposed, the places where this selection and arrange- 
ment -are made are neither pleasant nor fragrant, the floors 
being heaped with soiled rags of every kind, old bones, frag- 
ments of earthenware, ends of cigars, bits of mouldy leather, 
and unsightly and unwholesome odds and ends in general. 

The rag-pickers live in the meanest and wretchedest parts 
of the city, in such vile quarters as strangers in Paris, loung- 
ing or riding through the Boulevards, cannot imagine to have 
any existence. In the neighborhood of the Quartier Mouffe- 
tard and the ancient Barriere de Deux Mouhns, the most dis- 
mal in Paris, the poor chiffonniers, men, women, and children, 
lodge, crowded together, breathing the impurest of air, and 
enduring the most miserable of accommodations. 

A few of the aged couples rent a wretched room or two, 
and, as we say in America, keep house ; but by far the greater 
part of the rag-pickers take their meals in the commonest 
cook-shops. Yery little, if any, distinction is made there be- 
tween breakfast, dinner, and supper (the last, indeed, is hardly 
known among the working classes of the city), as each consists 
of a plate of soup and a hash or stew of very questionable 
12 



178 rag-pickers'* lottery. 

meat, "What is called mutton, beef, or veal, Is said, by those 
claiming to know, to be often horse, dog, or cat. However 
this may be, the meal, which usually costs about five sous, is 
certainly good and savory for the price, and heartily enjoyed 
by its consumers, to whom hunger is the best of sauce. 

Some of the cook-shops have a most extraordinaiy lottery, 
which they call the fortune of the fork. The owner of the 
shop buys from the cooks and waiters of the hotels and res- 
taurants, quantities of scraps or fragments left upon the plates 
of their patrons, and all these are thrown together and made 
soup of. When the soup is ready it is placed in a large iron 
kettle upon the counter, and, for two or three sous, each rag- 
picker has the privilege of darting a long fork into the boiled 
mass, to see what he can bring up. He may get a nice piece 
of chicken, a delicate bit of beef, a rich morsel of stufied 
goose-liver, or perhaps only a potato or bit of parsnip or car- 
rot ; possibly nothing at all. But, even in that sad event, the 
trier of his luck is entitled to a plate of soup, which, having 
tasted myself, on a certain occasion, impelled by curiosity, I 
can vouch for as excellent. The potage may have been made 
of rat, or cat, or dog ; of old boots, or bonnets, or wigs ; of 
dyspeptic poodles, or starved parrots or consumptive canaries ; 
but it was certainly savory, and more agreeable to the palate 
than a good deal of the soup I have taken at the best hotels 
and restaurants in New York. 

Very few of the chiffonniers are more than thirty-six or 
thirty-seven years of age. When they grow older, or get in- 
firm, they are usually employed by the rag-merchants who buy 
from the original collectors, as has been mentioned. 

The prices generally paid per one hundred pounds, by the 
wholesale dealers, are as follows : old paper, four francs ; coarse 
and common rags, four francs ; cotton rags, nine francs ; linen 
rags, ten to thirteen francs ; clean cotton rags, sixteen francs ; 
clean linen rags, twenty francs. Bones, glass, leather, iron, 
etc., bring from five to twenty-five francs a hundred. In ad- 
dition to the articles of regular trade, the rag-pickers frequently 
find those of value, such as jewelry, silver spoons, money, and 



CHARACTER OF THE CHIFFONNJERS. 179 

bank notes. Finders of any such valuables are bound by law, 
in France, to give them to the commissioners of police, on 
pain, if discovered, of punishment for larceny. Without this 
penalty, the rag-pickers, who in general are entirely honest, 
would, and do, hand over to the police whatever valuables 
they pick up, getting a receipt for it, giving their name and 
place of residence. The valuables are sent to the Prefecture, 
where they are kept for twelve months, and, if not claimed at 
the expiration of that time, are surrendered to the original 
finder. 

The chifibnniers, though not very attractive in person, 
habit, or manner, are, on the whole, upright, industrious, and 
independent. They never steal, never beg, and are seldom 
willing to receive money from strangers ; thus proving them- 
selves remarkable exceptions to most of the common people in 
Europe. The greater part of them are born and bred to the 
business, and prefer the irregular, free-and-easy life to one of 
ordinary labor. Their mode of existence cannot be regarded 
as either pleasant or desirable ; but they get no little satisfac- 
tion out of it, and really enjoy themselves, as all Parisians do, 
in their own way — much better than persons who are more 
prosperous, and have more reason to think themselves for- 
tunate. 




CHAPTER XXII. 



LOUIS NAPOLEON. 




HE career of Loiiis Napoleon, from the time 
of his birth until he made himself Emperor 
of France, might be called after Octave 
Feuillet's novel, "The Romance of a Poor 
Young Man." Indeed, the facts of his life 
are more romantic than romances, and verify the familiar 
proverb, that truth is stranger than fiction. 

Charles Louis Napoleon Bonaparte, born at the 
Tuileries, in Paris, April 20, 1808, the youngest son 
of Louis, King of Holland, and Hortense, daughter of the 
Empress Josephine, became an early favorite of the Emperor 
Napoleon. Scandal has always been rife in respect to his 
parentage : he has been accused of being the son of almost 
every man except his mother's husband. Even his imperial 
uncle has been charged with the responsibility of his birth, for 
the reason, probably, that it is believed by many that Hortense 
was the only woman Bonaparte ever really loved. The com- 
mon report in Paris has been that Louis' father was a Dutch 
Admiral. It is stated that the King of Holland, who was 
never attached to his wife, and who soon separated from her, 
refused to recognize Louis as his child until imperatively or- 
dered to do so by the Emperor. It is certain that the late 
Napoleon III. bears no personal resemblance to his uncle or to 
his mother ; but he is said to be very much like his father — 
always thought to be more Dutch than French in manner, 
temperament, and character. On the whole, therefore, there 



EAGERNESS FOR A THRONE. 181 

is no more reason to doubt Louis Napoleon's legitimacy than 
to doubt most men's under similar circumstances. 

Louis was mainly educated by his mother, who resided in 
Paris under the title of the Queen of Holland. After the 
overthrow of Napoleon I. they went to Augsburg, where the 
boy learned German, and, after remaining there several years, 
they made their home in Switzerland and Italy. The youth 
subsequently attended the mihtary college of Thun, and when 
the revolution of 1830 broke out he asked Louis Philippe for 
permission to go to France, but to no purpose. He then 
went back to Italy, and was engaged in the revolutionary 
movements of 1831, until he was banished from the Papal 
territory. Soon after this the elder brother, Napoleon, died, 
speedily followed by the Duke of Reichstadt, leaving Louis 
the successor of the First Napoleon, by the imperial edicts 
which had set aside the usual order of descent, and fixed the 
succession in the line of Louis, instead of that of the older 
brother, Joseph. 

Louis' mother had always reared him with the idea that he 
was destined to rule over France — an idea she seems to have 
inherited from Bonaparte — and she never ceased to impress 
upon her son, in every possible way, that the crown of his 
uncle would be his, if he would but strive for it. His destiny 
now appeared clear : from that moment all his thoughts con- 
centrated upon his succession to the throne, until he became 
upon that subject unquestionably a monomaniac. His first 
step was to gain the approval by the French people of his am- 
bitious schemes ; and to show the necessity of an Emperor to 
the nation, he wrote a book, which he afterward made into a 
larger and more elaborate work, called "Idees Napoleoniennes," 
insisting still more strongly upon his position. He tried to 
add deeds to his theories. In 1836 he proclaimed a revolution 
at Strasburg ; but the attempt resulted in a mortifying failure. 
He was taken prisoner, and Louis Philippe was persuaded, by 
the earnest entreaties of the prince's mother, to inflict upon 
him no more serious punishment than banishment. He was 
sent to this country, and after leading a semi- vagabond life in 



182 CHOSEN PRESIDENT. 

!New York and its vicinity, and wandering aimlessly about the 
country, he went to South America. In 183Y he was recalled 
to Switzerland by the mortal illness of his mother, and was 
with her when she died. It is said that she besought him with 
expiring breath to remember his destiny, and he solemnly 
promised he would spare no effort to achieve it. France de- 
manded that Switzerland should surrender him, and this in- 
duced him to retire to England. 

In August, 1840, in company with Count Montholon, who 
had been with his uncle at St. Helena, and sixty or seventy 
other persons attached to his fortunes, he chartered a steam- 
boat and went to Boulogne. Arrived there, he marched with 
his handful of followers to the barracks, and demanded that 
the soldiers should surrender. They refused; a slight skirmish 
occurred, and the prince was arrested, and sentenced by the 
House of Peers to perpetual imprisonment in tlie fortress of 
Ham. After remaining in captivity six years, which he spent 
in literary labors, he escaped in the disguise of a workman, and 
went again to England. 

When the revolutionists of 1848 expelled Louis Philippe, 
Louis ISTapoleon hurried to Paris, and was universally laughed 
at for his folly ; everybody feeling assured that he was about to 
do something that would make him more ridiculous than ever. 
He was chosen, however, a deputy to the National Assembly, 
Lamartine vainly endeavoring to eifect his banishment. On 
taking his seat he avowed his fidelity to the republic under 
oath, and on the 10th of December was chosen President by a 
large majority. In his new capacity, he and the representa- 
tives of the people were widely at variance, until suddenly, on 
the night of December 2, 1851, he made his famous cou^ 
d^etat Paris was declared in a state of siege ; the Assembly 
was dissolved ; many of the members arrested in their beds, 
and sent to prison ; while the people who showed themselves 
hostile to the outrage were shot down by the soldiers in the 
streets. At the same time a decree was issued establishing 
universal suffrage, and the election of a President for ten years. 
Louis I^apoleon was, of course, chosen, and he at once set 



AN EMPEROR PRISONER. 183 

about restoring the Empire. In January, 1852, a new consti- 
tution was adopted, the National Guard revived, and new 
orders of nobility were issued. In the following ^November 
the people were invited to vote upon a jplebisciturti making 
Louis Emperor, under the title of Napoleon III. The votes, 
as may be supposed, were largely in his favor, and thus the 
one object of his life, so long and steadily pursued — the single 
pm-pose he had cherished and held fast to in banishment, 
imprisonment, mortification, and defeat — was at last accom- 
plished ; accomplished, too, against the expectation and belief 
of both the Old World and the New. 

Napoleon's career since then is well-known : his marriage; 
his alliance with England against Russia ; his conjunction with 
Italy against Austria; his various political measures, which 
seemed to have made him the first monarch in Europe, until 
the disaster at Sedan toppled the Empire down over his dis- 
crowned head. 

The world's judgments are unstable enough. While Louis 
Napoleon was an adventurer, aiming at the throne, he was de- 
clared a charlatan and a simpleton. When he had grasped 
success, and secured the throne, he was pronounced gifted and 
great. Now that adversity has fallen upon him again, those 
who sounded his praises loudest insist that he was always a 
mountebank and a fool. 

Dm-ing the eighteen years of Napoleon's reign, the anxieties 
and responsibilities and perils of his office were constant and 
incalculable. Though suffering from disease that racked him, 
and threatened to prove mortal, he was ever on the alert, per- 
petually on the watch for formidable dangers, of which few save 
himself had any conception. Conspiracies were always form- 
ing against him, and assassins dogging his footsteps. Every 
day and every night he was in peril, and mental rest or relief 
must have been to him a feeling unknown. One would imag- 
ine that even his humiliated position, as a State prisoner at 
Wilhelmshohe, might have brought him a sense of release and 
comfort. It is said that the first night of sound sleep he expe- 
rienced after he set foot in Erance, after the revolution of 1848, 



184 A PECULIAR CHARACTER. 

was in the castle where lie was confined. When he ruled over 
Paris it presented the anomaly of a city of peace in a state of 
siege. He was conscious beyond everybody else that he lived 
upon a mine, which might at any moment explode, and blow 
him and his dynasty to atoms. He has endured enough to 
wear out twenty of the most vigorous men, and all for ambi- 
tion, which has been indeed the god of his idolatry. The 
secret history of the Empire, if faithfully written, would re- 
veal a condition of such constant vigilance, anxiety, and appre- 
hension on the part of the Emperor as would make the impe- 
rial robes seem in their power to torture like the shirt of 
Nessus. 

Yery few persons in this country felt any sympathy with 
IsTapoleon when they heard of his downfall. They believed 
that he richly deserved his fate ; for he had secured the throne 
by deceit, and perjury, and bloodshed. A pretended republi- 
can and patriot, he privately plotted against the liberties of 
France, and did not hesitate to slaughter in the streets of Paris 
those who had been his sincerest friends. 

His apologists claim that he has always had the interests 
of his country earnestly at heart ; that he understood the peo- 
ple even better than they understood themselves; that the 
Empire was indispensable to the prosperity and the glory of 
the nation ; and that it could be established only through the 
extreme measures he adopted. They say that he conscien- 
tiously thought the end justified the means; that, when he 
seemed to sin deepest against Erance, he loved her most, and 
that to-day, in his humiliation, he mourns more over the sor- 
rows of his country than over his own. 

It is almost impossible at this time to analyze or estimate 
so peculiar and contradictory a character as Louis Napoleon's. 
He has been from the first more or less a political sphinx, and 
no one has guessed the riddle of his daily giving-out. His 
face is as impenetrable as his nature. I have often seen him 
when he had reason to hope and to fear, to rejoice and be trou- 
bled — when Paris was quiet, and when on the brink of revolu- 
tion. But that stern, strange, thoroughly enigmatical face was 



GENERAL APPEARANCE. 



185 



ever the same. The eye looked dull, cold, rayless ; the heavy 
moustache covered the severe mouth ; the large aquiline nose 
appeared obdurate and threatening, searching, as if it scented 
whatever was in the air ; and his whole mien conveyed the 
impression of a strong will battling against a weak tempera- 
ment. There is nothing noble or royal in his person or his 
presence. Met under ordinary circumstances, in the common 
walks of life, he might well be mistaken for a Hebrew mer- 
chant, who had exhausted the sources of pleasure, and pene- 
trated the depths of dissipation, to discover that there was 
nothing in either, and that silence and mystery were the gov- 
erning powers of the world. 





CHAPTEK XXIII. 

THE EX-EMPRESS EUGENIE. 

YMPATHY, like glory, lights upon the highest 
heads. Though there are thousands of needy, 
homeless, broken-hearted women in France 
to-day, suffering from no sin of their own, 
they are of the undistinguished many, and the 
mind, therefore, goes beyond and above them, to fix 
its thought and pity upon one who, only yesterday 
their Empress, is now uncrowned, dethroned, and a 
weary wanderer in a weary land. 
Strange have been the fortunes of Eugenie Marie de Guz- 
man, and stranger still have been the fortunes of Eugenie 
Bonaparte. No one would have dreamed, in the wildest flight 
of imagination, that the pretty child playing in the soft sun- 
shine of Granada would ever be Empress of the French. No 
one would have supposed, after being seated on a throne for 
more than seventeen years, and after having won the admira- 
tion and applause of all nations, that she would be compelled 
to fly from an infuriated mob, in the beautiful city where she 
had been most loved, and where the loudest paeans had been 
chanted in her name. 

Cosmopolitan in character, as in blood and education — for 
she is a Scotch-Spanish-French woman — she attracted atten- 
tion from her earliest girlhood by the loveliness of her per- 
son and the charm of her manners. Later in life she was re- 
splendent in the most fashionable salons of Madi'id and Paris, 
and was the cynosure of admiring eyes on the Prado and 
Champs Elysees. A coquette, as any pretty woman born in 




NAPOLEON III. 



SUCCUSS OF THE EMPRESS. ISI 

Spain and educated in France would naturally be, she is re- 
ported to have broken scores of hearts before her marriage, 
but to have broken them in the purely sentimental way which 
does not prevent them from being early and easily mended. 
Still unwedded at twenty-six, it was generally predicted she 
would share the fate of many bewitching flirts, and die in 
single-blessedness. She had lived the hard and wearing life 
of constant gayety, in gilded society, and yet her face was as 
fresh and her form as round as if she had spent her years on 
the sunny plains of Andalusia, instead of in the crowded 
theatres and hot drawing-rooms of the French and Spanish 
capitals. 

Spending the winter in Paris, the Emperor met and fell in 
love with her — a brilliant triumph for Eugenie over the rather 
loose and hlasS man who had travelled much, and seen the 
rarest beauties of the richest lands. Having sought in vain 
to ally himself with nearly every royal family in Europe, he 
had almost forsworn marriage when he encountered the fasci- 
nating Guzman. He pressed his suit earnestly and eloquently ; 
but at the end she referred him to the priest, and so they were 
united. The marriage proved what love-matches seldom do — 
both wise and politic. No sooner was she invested with the 
pui"ple, than she — understanding how great an influence a 
handsome and elegant woman can exercise upon so gallant a 
nation as the French — made it her ceaseless study to win them 
to the Empire through their esteem and aflection for the 
Empress. 

Eugenie's success was so remarkable, it cannot be doubted 
that patriotism, humanity, and tenderness of heart entered largely 
into her diplomacy. She obtained pardons and amnesties for 
political prisoners ; erected hospitals and churches ; procured 
grants from the government for building new railways; im- 
proved the docks and harbors, and did everything in her power 
to add to the prosperity and happiness of France. Finding 
that trade had suffered from the lack of a feminine representa- 
tive of the throne, and from the want of a proper recognition 
of the Empire by the world of fashion, she instituted at 



188 HER APPEARANCE WITH VICTORIA. 

once Court balls, State concerts, and ceremonial dinners, and 
attended the theatre regularly; thus giving an impetus and 
activity to business almost unprecedented. In company with 
her husband she made a grand tour through the northern 
provinces, and through Brittany, where serious political dis- 
aifection had existed, and by her generosity, beauty, and gra- 
cious manners, reconciled the most discontented to the new 
form of government. 

The imperial pair had invited Queen Yictoria to meet them 
at Cherbourg, and she gladly went, thus affording an opportu- 
nity to the public to compare, or rather contrast, the woman 
sovereigns of the two great powers. It is hardly necessary 
to state that the advantage was altogether on the side of the 
former Countess de Teba. Not to speak of her youth, and 
grace, and freshness, her toilette on that occasion was a miracle 
of taste and art, while the Queen, as stated by those present, 
was attired in a white gown, trimmed with light blue, wearing 
a green scarf, carrying a pink parasol, and bearing upon her 
uncomely head a bonnet conspicuous with dark- brown ribbons 
— a combination of millinery and mantua eminently calculated 
to put whole drawing-rooms to flight. During the Crimean 
War the Emperor and Empress returned the Queen's visit, 
when Eugenie, appearing in public with Yictoria, so com- 
pletely outshone her that the loyalest of the English are said 
to have experienced great mortification and something nearly 
akin to disgust. The Empress, though not born to the throne, 
as Victoria may be said to have been, seemed in the presence 
of the latter like a goddess beside a mvandiere. 

"When Louis Napoleon, entering the field during the Italian 
war, made the Empress Regent, her popularity was at its 
height; and it is questionable if any sovereign of Europe dur- 
ing the century had a stronger hold upon the afiections of 
the people. After the sudden and unexpected peace at Villa- 
franca, and the political and religious complications in which 
the Emperor became involved, Eugenie took such strong, even 
violent, sides with the Pope and the Roman priesthood — until 
her flight from Paris she continued to hold them, more or less 



OVER-ZEAL FOR SEE CHURCH. 180 

— as to alienate herself, not only from her husband, but from 
the people who had once almost worshipped her. 

From all the accounts current, and believed in Paris at the 
time, she seems to have been possessed by the demon of un- 
reason. She did everything she could to thwart Napoleon, 
both as a man and a monarch, and made him more or less subser- 
vient to her fanatical schemes and superstitious fears by his 
unwillingness to render their discord public. She forced M. 
Fould, the Minister of State, to resign. She even went so far 
as to sell the jewels that had been presented to her on her mar- 
riage, by Strasbourg, Bordeaux, Marseilles, Paris, and other 
principal cities of the country — these really belonged to the 
State jewels — and send the proceeds to the Pope, who stood 
in no more legitimate need of money than the Eothschilds do 
of eleemosynary sous. 

From that time to the fall of Napoleon she never fully 
regained the esteem or affection of the Parisians, who, though 
nominally Roman Catholics, are as far as possible from zealots. 
She seems, however, by some of that impenetrably mysterious 
management for which her sex is noted, to have won back the 
estranged heart of her justly-aggravated and indignant hus- 
band. In justice to her, it may be said that over-zeal for her 
Church, and certain superstitious fears connected with her son 
and the dynasty, impaired her judgment for the time, and de- 
ranged her naturally clear and excellent faculties. The com- 
mon anxiety and common danger which the Emperor and 
Empress shared so long, no doubt contributed largely to the 
restoration of their sympathy and love. 

Apart from her bigotry and superstition, for which her 
nativity and education must be held responsible, she has been 
in the main a generous, charitable, and womanly woman, who 
has done so much good that the little ill she may have been 
the cause of is not worthy of remembrance. During the 
brief term of her second regency she bade fair to resume in 
the hearts of the French the position she held at the time of 
the Italian "War. Her bearing and conduct were discreet, 
courageous, and patriotic, and but for disasters to the nation 



190 A FUGITIVE AND A WANDERER. 

which she could neither lessen nor prevent, she might again 
have been the universal favorite she was when, day after day, 
she visited the military hospitals ; ministered to the wounded 
and the dying, and the grateful soldiers turned almost with 
expiring breath to kiss her passing shadow on the wall. 

Amid the trying and terrific scenes which followed the 
announcement of the terrible defeat at Sedan, she sustained 
herself and her authority with noble dignity and heroic calm- 
ness. And only when she had been deserted by almost every 
one of her professed friends and adherents, and when the piti- 
less mob of Paris was howling with rage at the very doors of 
the Tuilleries, did she quit the city she had so loved, and which 
had so loved her, to become a fugitive and a wanderer, crown- 
less, homeless, husbandless, in a land that had found it con- 
venient to forget that France had been its ally and its friend. 

.Those who have hated Eugenie, if any there be, can hardly 
hold their hatred longer against the unfortunate woman who 
has fallen from the head of a proud and generous nation to the 
position of a suppliant for the commonest sympathy. Her 
answer to the advice that she should order out the troops to 
fire upon the mob before she fled from Paris, was this: "I 
would rather have their pity than their hate." And this an- 
swer, so expressive of womanly tenderness and generosity, will 
be remembered to her honor long after her inherited bigotry 
and superstition are forgotten. She has done much to make 
the position of a sovereign charming and lovable ; and when 
her epitaph is written, it will be with forgiveness for her faults, 
and sincere afi'ection for her far more than overbalancing 
virtues. 




CHAPTEE XXiy. 

HENRI KOCHEFOKT. 

A^^y^^^Y^ ENEI EOCHEFOKT is a genuine French- 
iBilllTn lil! ^^^ — ^^ Parisian, rather, since Paris is an 
I ' Wi^?y^iJ c y !| intensification and exaggeration of France — 
ii'fiPW'^^flllM ^^^ y^^ ^^^ nnlike most of his countrymen. 
i^yjXyjJlH He has all the strengths and many of the 
i^^^^^tT-^ weaknesses of his fellow Gauls, who often re- 
mind us of the dictum of Yoltaire : There are two kinds of 
nature — human nature and French nature. He is brave to 
rashness, self-conscious in the extreme, melodramatic always, 
wedded to sensation. But, if vain, he is strong ; if egotistic, 
he is resolute ; if vindictive, he is earnest. He worships ex- 
citement as he does himself, and is resolved the world (a 
Frenchman's world is always Paris) shall not forget him — at 
least while he keeps out of Mont Parnasse. 

Never satisfied, save in trouble of some kind (Harry Percy 
had not more loathing for a quiet life), he is just now in the 
height of contentment. He has accomplished much. He has 
made himself talked about. "What Parisian could ask more ? 
His name is familiar even in what is regarded on the Seine as 
the backwoods of America — in New York, for instance. He 
is the best-known journalist on the Continent ; indeed, almost 
the only one known at all, except Emile de Girardin. In 
Paris he is spoken of as frequently as the Madeleine or the 
Louvre. He is one of the very few persons pointed out on 
the Boulevards ; and, after Louis Napoleon, was the first man 
strangers desired to see. 

Eochefort's appearance is very difierent from the popular 



192 PERSONAL APPEARANCE. 

notion of it, as is that of most mortals who have achieved 
either distinction or notoriety. He is not a whit like the 
ideal Frenchman — slight, graceful, elegant, olive-complexioned, 
black-eyed. When I first saw him, in Brussels, during his 
self-exile, and when I met him afterward in Paris, I could not 
find in him any personal resemblance to his countrymen, I 
should have thought him an American — a native of Missis- 
sippi, Texas, or Arkansas; and I expected to hear, as he 
spoke, the Anglo- African accent of the Southern States, in- 
stead of the pure, unmistakable Academy French. He is 
above the medium height (most Frenchmen are small of stat- 
ure), and rather muscular, but raw-boned and angular. He is 
exceedingly pale — pale to cadaverousness — with something of 
the green shadows in his face that seem to lurk about Ribera's 
inquisitorial pictures. He has prominent, high-cheeked bones ; 
a square, spacious forehead ; a large, thick nose, relieved by a 
closely trimmed moustache ; deep-set eyes, whose color, difli- 
cult to determine from their variableness of expression, is 
really dark gray. His chin is long, heavy, somewhat protu- 
berant, bounded by a whisker au bouo / his cheeks are thin 
and unshaven ; his brows thick ; his hair curly, and worn of 
medium length, after the American fashion. His face, un- 
questionably homely, indicates marked character and strength ; 
and when animated, undergoes a very favorable change, giving 
a very different impression from what it does in repose. Some- 
thing of the coldness and hardness one finds in Titian's picture 
of Philip II., in the Library of the Escorial, is in the face of 
the irreconcilable journalist. He would not be suspected 
commonly of having nerves ; but the close observer will de- 
tect in him a triumph of self-discipline, a suppression of im- 
pulse, a mastery of mind over matter. All his editorials since 
he blossomed into Red Republicanism in the Figaro^ became 
an ultraist in the Lanterne^ and a ferocious extremest in the 
Marseillaise^ would convey the impression that he is a man 
of uncontrollable passions ; but he is not. He is violent be- 
cause he deliberates to be. He is hot-hearted, but cool-headed. 
He never says a word more than he intends, and he thoroughly 
understands the force of language. 



POLITICAL ASSOCIATIONS. 193 

Rochefort is a count of ancient as well as noble blood ; has 
bad every advantage of education, prestige, and association. 
Like most Parisians born with prosperous suri'oundings, he 
early completed the round of pleasures (some say he had 
none); and, approaching middle age, found it necessary to 
have a new dissipation. Sterne has said women in France are 
at first gallant, then literary, finally religious. The men, it 
seems to me, have fom- degrees — dissipation, study, politics, 
scepticism. The first is usually from eighteen to twenty- 
three ; the second, from twenty-three to twenty-eight ; the 
third lasts to forty ; and the fourth to the grave — even though, 
from youthful training, they make profession of religion at the 
latest horn*. 

Eochefort, now about forty, has had this fourfold experi- 
ence. He may be weary of wine and society, of conversa- 
tional and sentimental conquests, of epigrammatic writing for 
writing's sake, of clever criticisms and fine theories of art. 
He now devotes himself to politics and what he conceives to 
be the wrongs of his country. N"aturally an intellectual epi- 
cm-e, a dilettante, he would have continued such, say the Im- 
perialists, but for the wounding of his self-love by Louis Na- 
poleon. As that is the unpardonable sin in a Frenchman's 
eyes, it was, of course, unpardonable in Rochefort's. From 
that moment he hated the Emperor ; and the only way to 
show his hatred was to oppose the Empire and abuse the 
whole Napoleon family. He became a Republican through 
his feelings of personal resentment, and has for years been the 
inteiisest advocate of free government. However he may 
have reached his present principles, he is most earnest in their 
behalf. If turned to them by personal feelings, he holds and 
clings to them with all the tenacity of his temperament, and 
all the ardor that conviction lends to enthusiasm. He longs 
for a revolution, and would lead one to-morrow, if he were 
sure it would carry him to the scaffold. 

After Eochefort was obliged to quit Paris to avoid impris- 
onment, after the suppression of the Lanterne, his bitterness 
toward the Emperor and the Empire so increased as to become 
13 



194 REVOLUTIONARY SPIRIT. 

almost a monomania. All the while he resided at Brussels he 
chafed inwardly like a caged tiger, and fed his wrath with the 
luxury of his hatred. I used to encounter him there, walking 
alone in the streets, pale and hard as marble, the type of re- 
strained malevolence, waiting for an opportunity to strike. 
Elected to the Chamber of Deputies, he could return to Paris 
regardless of Louis Napoleon. That gave him the field and 
the advantage he had sought. He issued the Marseillaise ^ 
and from the first number to the last it teemed with the most 
violent abuse of the Emperor, and everybody and everything 
connected with him. In his desire to insult the head of 
the government, and bring on a crisis, he laid aside all gener- 
osity and chivalry. He called Eugenie wanton, and her son 
illegitimate, when it was his proudest boast a few years since 
that he was a gentleman before he was a count. 

If what I have heard of Rochefort in Paris be true, I doubt 
if he would be satisfied with any form of government. He 
has been bitten with the cobra of political theory, and he will 
never recover. He is an implacable foe, and he troubled Louis 
Napoleon with an army of a million of soldiers at the imperial 
back. The people believe in him ; he can fan the smoulder- 
ing fires of the Faubourg Gt. Antoine, and awake the spirit of 
the sa/ns culoUes across the Seine. 

The days of revolution may come after the war. If Roche- 
fort cannot force them into hideous birth, they are over indeed. 
A man willing to die for a purpose is always dangerous to those 
who oppose him. That man is Henri Rochefort ! * 

* What was a eurmise has become a prediction. Since this chapter was 
written, Rochefort has been a strong advocate of the Commune in his latest 
journal, Le Mot d'Ord/re. 




CHAPTER XXV. 

THE CHIEF CITIES IN FRANCE. 

^ HE South of France is noted for the liber- 
ie ality of its political sentiments, and conse- 
l\ quently has more of the republican element, 
even of the crimson sort, than any other 
section of the country. The people, in 
i)^ contradistinction to the titled and privi- 
leged classes in the large cities, such as 
Bordeaux, Lyons and Marseilles, and in the region round 
about, have always been at least lukewarm toward, if not op- 
posed to, the dynasty of Louis Napoleon. After the declara- 
tion of the Republic, they were not satisfied, because they did 
not believe the provisional goveixment sufficiently democratic, 
and they would no doubt have set up some new authority, had 
not their turbulence and open rebellion been suppressed by 
the military power. The spirit of the Faubourg St, Antoine, 
is fully shared, if not exceeded, in Southern France, where 
such ultraists as Blanc and Blanqui, and such extreme journals 
as the Marseillaise, meet with intense and passionate fervor. 

Lyons, two hundred and forty miles southeast of Paris, is 
the second city as respects population and manufactures in the 
country. Its population has increased rapidly, and is still in- 
creasing. In 1852, it had something over 156,000 people; 
ten years after nearly 319,000, and at present not far from 
400,000 people. The city is mainly built on a tongue of land 
between the Saone flowing from the north, and the Rhone 
from the east. It extends, however, to the opposite banks of 
both of those large rivers, which are spanned by numerous 



196 THE CITY OF LYONS. 

handsome bridges. Two steep hills, Fourvieres and St. Sebas- 
tian, on the right bank of the Saone, are partially occupied by 
streets. One of these leads up to the summit of Fourvieres, 
from which an admirable view can be had, not only of the city 
but of the country for miles around. The panorama is strik- 
ingly beautiful, embracing the Cevennes mountains on the 
south, and the distant but distinct Alps on the east. Though 
there are fine quarters in the city — the quays with their planted 
walks are the finest — the streets generally are narrow, irregular, 
and dirty, and lined with high buildings of a most ungraceful 
pattern. The Place des Terreaux and the Place Bellecour, 
and two or three other squares, are very attractive. The pub- 
lic buildings are neither numerous nor handsome. The church 
of the Abbey of Ainay, on the bank of the Saone, has gloomy 
dungeons, far below the bed of the river, in which many of 
the early Christians are said to have been confined before they 
were put to death. In the Archiepiscopal Palace, near the 
Cathedral, a great many Protestants were butchered in 15Y2, 
as a sequel to St. Bartholemew. The town is surrounded by 
a line of detached forts crowning its different heights. Osten- 
sibly for the pui'pose of defence, they were probably made 
with the object of intimidating the Lyonnais, notorious for 
their seditious disposition, and of all the red republicans in 
France decidedly the reddest. 

The silk manufactures of the city are the largest and most 
important in the world, and of late years the manufacture of 
velvet has become a great branch of industry. Eighty thou- 
sand machines (metiers), consuming about four millions of 
pounds of silk, valued at $40,000,000, produce silk manufac- 
tures worth over $60,000,000. One fourth or one third of all 
this is consumed at home, and of the remainder, which is ex- 
ported, by far the greatest part comes to this market. I do 
not know the value of the velvet trade (Lyons now exceeds 
Genoa in the quality of its velvet), but it must be fully 
$10,000,000 a year. 

The city is very ancient, having been a place of some im- 
portance when Csesar invaded Gaul. It was sacked by the 



TEE LADY OF LYONS. 197 

Huns and Yisigoths, and suffered terribly at the hands of the 
Saracens. On the dissolution of the Empire of Charlemagne, 
it became the capital of the kingdom of Provence, and was an- 
nexed to France during the reign of Louis IX. Several of the 
Roman EmjDerors, Claudius, Caracalla, and Marcus Aurelius, 
and the famous general Germanicus, "were natives of Lyons. 

Outside of the city proper, are many beautiful residences, 
and grounds belonging to the wealthy merchants, who are for 
the most part men of liberality, culture and taste, as their 
delightful homes testify. 

Spealving of merchants, recalls M. Deschapelles, the father 
of the ultra-sentimental young lady to whom Bulwer intro- 
duced us years ago. When in Lyons, I sought in vain for 
Pauline, but found a prosaic fellow, who gave a different ver- 
sion from that of the stage. I don't vouch for his story : I 
merely repeat it in his words. 

Claude Melnotte was in truth a gardener's son, who fell in 
love with Pauline while she was buying radishes of him one 
morning, when her father, having been tipsy the night before, 
refused to purchase the household necessaries as was his custom. 
Claude was rather susceptible, and sold her the radishes at half 
price, on account of her pretty face, as he said, which pleased 
her, and so delighted her practical parent, when he heard it, 
that he insisted on her going to market every morning. She 
did not like to go ; but papa being obdurate, she obeyed. 
Claude finally became so interested that he gave her radishes 
for nothing, and even went so far as to purchase mutton and 
conied-beef, presenting them in the name of love. 

Her mercantile papa was in ecstasies with Claude, declaring 
him a very generous person, who ought to be encouraged. He 
demanded that Pauline should take everything that was given 
gratis. Pauline became the regular market-goer for the family, 
and at last Claude told her he would like to marry her, if the 
old gentleman would come down handsomely. She felt 
affronted, and informed the elder Deschapelles, who, living 
only in money, inquired into Claude's circumstances, and found 
he had not returned any revenue to the asiHssor for several 



198 ANOTHER VERSION OF AN OLD STORY. 

years. He then called on the sentimental youth, and threat- 
ened to take away his license. 

Claude got mad and brought suit for the things he had 
given Pauline. He failed to get judgment ; and, resolving on 
revenge, induced one of Deschapelles' clerks, who had been 
refused by the lady, to introduce him as a wealthy chap, that 
cared no more for a thousand dollars than A. T. Stewart does 
for ten cents. 

Old Deschapelles was taken in; and so was Pauline, for 
Claude dyed his whiskers and put on a wig to woo her in. She 
did not care how he looked or talked ; for the old man, having 
gotten hard-up, couldn't pay'her bills, and she was bound to 
have a wealthy husband. When Claude proposed she asked 
him to make out a statement of his effects, and having sworn 
that he owned ten comer lots in Lyons, she accepted him, and 
her father ratified the contract. 

They were married at once, but after the ceremony, Descha- 
pelles discovered the trick, and put his new son-in-law out of 
the house, receiving a black eye in his laudable labor. Claude 
would have been sent to prison for his scoundrelism, but he 
offered to go into the army, and so escaped punishment. He 
didn't fight very well, but he played an excellent game of draw- 
poker, and in two years made money enough to get out of the 
service. He then returned to Lyons and offered to live with 
Pauline. The old man said he would consider his case ; that 
two more men had proposed during his absence, and the chap 
that had the most money should take the girl. 

Claude fell short by several thousand dollars, and was, in 
consequence, ordered to keep out of the way. 

Pauline married one of the other fellows — the report that 
she went to Chicago to get a divorce is without foundation — 
and Claude took to cognac so enthusiastically that he fell off 
one of the Rhone bridges on a certain night, and the coroner 
afterward made $25 by holding an inquest on the body. . 

Pauline was happy, as women usually are, in her second 
marriage, for her husband paid all her bills without grumbhng. 
She had several Children, grew fat and frowzy, and died at last 



MARSEILLES. 199 

of a chronic and combined attack of beer and dropsy. Claude 
never knew a line of poetry in his life, and couldn't have told 
the difference between the Lake of Como and a Dutch canal. 
" Dost thou like the picture ? " 

Marseilles, the most important seaport of France, at the 
head of a fine bay, is built on the side and at the base of a hill 
partially surrounded by loftier hills, leaving the view open to 
the sea. The old town, on the west, is uninviting on account 
of its narrow and crooked streets and dismal buildings. The 
new town, on the east, is very pleasant and well built. It is 
noted for a fine thoroughfare traversing its whole length, and 
for the Grand Cours promenade, planted with trees, adorned 
with fountains, and lined with elegant mansions. The churches 
and public buildings are not very noticeable or interesting. 

Marseilles is the great point of debarkation for the Mediter- 
ranean, and regular lines of steamers communicate with Spain, 
Italy, Malta, Syria, Algiers, Sicily, Egypt, Greece, and Turkey. 
All nationalities are to be met there, and all languages are 
spoken in its streets and on its wharves. To the stranger it is 
veiy interesting on account of its cosmopolitan character. 
Staying a few days in Marseilles makes it seem as if he had 
travelled over a large part of the world. The variety of cos- 
tumes one sees there gives the impression of a grand masquer- 
ade, and I question if. Sioj city on the Continent furnishes so 
good an opportunity to study manners and character. 

Marseilles is said to have been founded by the Phoenicians, 
about six hundred years B.C. It has had various fortunes and 
misfortunes. Having taken sides with Pompey, it was be- 
sieged and captured by Caesar ; was afterward a prey to the 
Goths, Burgundians, and Franks ; was nearly destroyed by the 
Saracens suffered from war, pestilence, and famine, and was 
at last united to France in 1481. Its population is about 300,- 
000 — the third city of the country — and its growth is steady 
and rapid. 

The old province of Normandy, including the departments 
of the Seine-Inferieure, Eure, Calvados, Manche, and Orne, is 
one of the most interesting and picturesque regions of France. 



200 SPLENDID CHURCHES OF ROUEN. 

Its landscapes are varied and picturesque. Hill and valley, 
stream and woodland, hamlet and town, cottage and villa, fly 
past you as the train rushes along, as in a dream of beauty. 
A soft, rich greenness lies over the earth. The peasants and 
laborers are tlirifty and industrious, and appear contented and 
cheerful. 

Rouen, once the capital of Normandy, has lost much of its 
ancient character by the destruction of the old buildings, the 
opening of new streets, and the general spirit of improvement 
that Louis Napoleon introduced into the Empire. Still, there 
is enough of the old town left to make it attractive. Rouen 
has of late become quite a manufacturing city, thereby dimin- 
ishing its romance of course, and has so increased that its popu- 
lation is now estimated at 100,000. 

Its famous churches — St. Ouen and Notre Dame — have the 
reputation of being among the finest gothic structures on the 
Continent. They are seven or eight centuries old, and full of 
historic memories and associations. They are in a very good 
state of preservation, considering their age, though headless 
angels, legless saints, and armless cherubim are prominent in 
their architecture, as in most of the cathedrals of Europe. 

Neither of the churches is finished, of course. It is not 
the pohcy of the religious managers abroad to complete their 
cathedrals. If they did, they would have less excuse for so- 
liciting donations ; and, like the horse-leech's daughter, they 
are ever crying, " Give, give ! " 

The stained glass of the Cathedral, particularly the rose- 
windows, is very fine and of various generations. A very 
severe hail-storm of long ago, broke many of the panes, 
which, having been supplied by modern art, contrast most 
noticeably with those of more ancient date. There are, in 
St. Ouen, two rose-windows on opposite sides of the church. 
One of them is said to have been painted by the pupil of the 
artist who made the first ; and, the work of the pupil being 
superior to that of the master, the latter, in a fit of jealous 
rage, put out the other's eyes. This story is told of so many 
of the churches, that it may well be deemed apocryphal. 

( 



JOAN OF ARC, 201 

In the choir of the Notre Dame, small tablets mark the 
spot where the heart of Eichard Coeur de Lion, his brother 
Henry, his uncle Geoffrey Plantagenet, and John, Duke of 
Bedford, were interred. 

I have often wondered the ecclesiastical legend-makers did 
not, or do not, display more variety in their invention. They 
have the same old tales repeated over and over again in France, 
Italy, Spain, Germany, and Austria, until one wearies of hear- 
ing them. The persons who have charge of the department 
of theologic fiction should advertise for proposals for new 
legends, which would, I feel confident, be an improvement 
upon many of the old ones, both in interest and probability. 

St. Yincent is even older, it is said, than St. Ouen or 
l»[otre Dame, though not so well known. In it are buried, I 
was told, the remains of William the Conqueror, that eminent 
pirate, grandson of a tanner, from wliom so many of the titled 
families of England have boasted their descent. I have seen 
the tomb of William at the Abbayeaux Hommes in Caen, and 
I remember he died in one of the monasteries near Rouen, 
from the effects of a rupture after burning Mantes. His ashes 
are declared to be in both places. Perhaps he died twice, as a 
slight atonement for his innumerable villanies. 

The Place de la PuceUe d' Orleans every one visits; for 
Rouen is always associated with the burning of Joan of Arc 
— that most barbarous act, for which the English are responsi- 
ble. A monument, extoUing her virtues and combining a 
fountain, is erected on the spot, and its inscription is read 
almost hourly by people of every nation, who sympathize with 
the memory of a heroic woman that delivered her country 
when man had despaired of its cause. Near the monument is 
an old buUding commemorating Joan's martyrdom. The 
building is ornamented with a number of statues representing 
the principal persons who took part in the condemnation and 
execution of the Maid of Orleans. 

Other objects of interest are the ancient stone clock, re- 
ported to be six hundred years old, the Parliament House of 
the Dukes of Normandy, and the building in which Francis 



202 



HAVRE AND CHERBOURG. 



I., Henry YIII., Charles Y., and other eminent monarchs are 
said to have met, and consulted, and feasted. On the outer 
walls of this building are carved representations of the Field 
of the Cloth of Gold, which are a good deal marred by time 
and the elements. 

Havre is a handsome and prosperous city, the port of 
Paris, and in foreign commerce ranks next to Marseilles. It 
is surrounded by ramparts and walls, and has a very strong 
citadel. Its public structures are in no wise remarkable ; but 
it is well built, and many pleasant villas adorn the suburbs. 
The city was founded in 1509, and has a population of 80,000, 
steadily increasing. 

Cherbourg, a fortified seaport and an important naval sta- 
tion, has some 30,000 people. Its most famous work is its 
breakwater, stretching across the roadstead, and completed, 
after many difficulties, at an enormous expense. Its houses 
are of stone, and slated, and its principal buildings are military 
and naval arsenals and hospitals. 





CHAPTER XXYI. 

SCENES OF THE WAR. 

(AR makes persons and places memorable that 
are unknown or have been forgotten. Geog- 
raphy and history sleep in time of peace ; but 
the strife of arms wakes them up, and fills them 
with an interest they did not before possess. 
Until the great struggle between France and 
Germany, hardly any one thought of, or cared 
for, the French provinces west of the Rhine, or 
for the various localities and fortified towns which have since 
become famous. Names never mentioned a year ago, are now 
in everybody's mouth, familiar as household words. 

The region of country along the Rhine and adjacent 
thereto, is not attractive and picturesque, as many suppose. 
Part of it is known as Champagne, from which the delicious 
wine, made from grapes grown in that vicinity, receives its 
name. All vine-growing regions, for some reason or other, 
are represented as especially favored by nature. The inhab- 
itants are poetically described as of a superior order, and 
every landscape is mentioned by visitors, as if they had seen 
it while under the influence of the chief product of the soil. 

I have heard a number of travellers speak of the depart- 
ments of Meurthe, Moselle, Meuse, Mame, and Ardennes, as 
if they were parts of Arcadia, abounding in delightful scenery, 
and the handsomest peasantry in the world. "When one visits 
that quarter of France, and looks at it for himself, he fails to 
find the broad and smiling plains, the green and graceftd hill- 
sides, and the flowery river banks he has probably expected. 



204 FEMININE PEASANTS. 

Nor does he discover the hardy, comely, and light-hearted race 
who spend their leisure hours laughing and dancing, making 
love, and quaffing the purple vintage of the golden season. 

He sees, instead, an uninteresting and rather dreary dis- 
trict, abounding in chalky subsoil, which renders it at once 
monotonous and disagreeable. The country, for the most part, 
is flat and uninteresting. The vine-dressers and their families, 
like most of the French peasantry, are deplorably ignorant, 
and have a dull, over-worked look, altogether at variance with 
the popular opinion of French intelligence and vivacity. 
They live in dismal stone dwellings, without gardens or yards 
of any kind, which have an appearance of positive discomfort. 
The pleasant farm-houses and cottages so numerous in America 
and England, do not exist in the purely agricultural regions. 
There are large tracts of cultivated land everywhere, but 
hardly any comfortable habitations. 

The scattering villages have nothing to recommend them. 
They are usually made up of one straggling street, a continua- 
tion of the high road bordered by the ugly, ill- ventilated stone 
houses without flowers, shnibbery or trees, making them look 
desolate enough. The grape region is almost entirely without 
fences or hedges ; the roads running through the various vine- 
yards whose limits are indicated only by heaps of stones. 

Some of the feminine peasants would be pretty, if they 
were neatly and properly dressed ; but, as a rule, they display 
none of that carefulness and coquetry of attire for which their 
countrywomen are noted. They are quicker and more anima- 
ted than the men, as I have observed is generally the case in 
Europe, and are so free in manner and generous in disposition 
that they are often brought to shame by their very generosity. 

Into the region I have described, the Germans marched, 
subsequent to the engagements of Saarbriick, Worth, Hagenau, 
and Weissenburg. After overrunning a large part of the 
province of Lorraine, they compelled Bazaine to surrender at 
Metz with all his army. 

Metz, one of the strongest fortified places in Europe, is the 
capital of the department of Moselle, and situated at the con- 



MET2 AND NANCY. 205 

fluence of the Moselle and Seille rivers. It is a quaint and 
curious old town, and though its present population is about 
57,000, its prosperity belongs to the past. Its citadel, on the 
right bank of the Moselle, is a stronghold indeed, where a few 
determined men could defend themselves endlessly against 
great odds. Its Gothic Cathedral, with a spire three hundred 
and eighty feet high, is an interesting specimen of architecture. 
Its arsenal, with a cannon foundery and armory, is one of the 
largest in France. The loss of Metz was a serious blow to the 
French, who will not be likely to recover it from the Germans 
at least during this century. After the decline of the House 
of Charlemagne, it passed into the possession of the Emperor 
of Germany, who fortified it with all the engineering skill 
then available. In 1552, it claimed the protection of France, 
to which it belonged until its recent fall. It has important 
manufactures, and, being a general entrepot for foreign mer- 
chandise, carries on quite an active trade. Metz is very old, 
having been of considerable note under the Romans. The 
revocation of the Edict of Nantes very seriously impaired its 
prosperity, which it has never regained. 

Nancy, twenty-nine mUes south of Metz, on the left bank of 
the Meurthe, is one of the best built towns in France, and has 
a population of 46,000 or 47,000. The Place Royal, the prin- 
cipal square, is remarkable for its handsome buildings, among 
which are the Town-hall and the Bishop's Palace. A bronze 
statue commemorates the memoiy of Stanislaus, ex-king of 
Poland, who did much to beautify the town. The most con- 
spicuous structures are the Cathedral, the Bon Secours Church, 
the barracks and hospitals. An academy, national college, 
nonnal school, and a library containing over thirty thousand 
volumes, are among its educational institutions. Nancy was 
taken by Charles the Bold in 1475, and two years aftei^ward 
he lost his life while besieging it. In 1634, it fell into the 
possession of Louis XIII., and Louis XIV. destroyed its forti- 
fications, but its citadel is still standing. 

Yerdun, in the department of Meuse, is well fortified, and 
has numerous manufactures. Bombarded and taken by the 



206 CHALONS, REEIMS, AND SEDAN. 

Prussians in 1792, it was restored to tlie French after the 
battle of Valmy. 

Chalons, where Louis Napoleon had an intrenched camp, is 
the capital of the department of Marne, and situated in an open 
country. Its importance is in the past, having been one of the 
great commercial cities in Europe, under the Merovingian 
kings, when it contained 60,000 souls. In the fifth century, 
Attila was defeated there by the Romans, and in the sixteenth 
century its parliament burned the bull of excommunication 
launched by Pope Clement YIII., against the king of France. 
Its fairs were once celebrated ; but for the last two centuries it 
has been rather an insignificant town. 

Rheims, twenty-five miles northwest of Chalons, has about 
56,000 inhabitants, and is the centre of the champagne wine 
trade. Substantially built and enclosed with walls, its streets 
and squares are spacious, and some of them handsome. The 
Cathedral is a noted specimen of Gothic architecture, with a 
finely sculptured portal and fagade. The Porte de Mars, 
originally a triumphal arch erected by the Romans, is much 
admired. The city has been the birthplace of many distin- 
guished Frenchmen. The monarchs of France, with several 
exceptions, were crowned there from the time of Philip Augus- 
tus to the revolution of 1830. 

Sedan, where Louis IS^apoleon surrendered with the whole 
of MacMahon's army, will henceforth be famous in history as 
the place in which the French Empire met with its downfall. 
Until recently, it was chiefly associated with the chairs which 
bear its name : in the future it will be remembered as the city 
where the third Napoleon lost his seat. Sedan has a popula- 
tion of some 38,000. In its principal square is a bronze 
statue of Turenne, the famous commander, who was born 
there, and whose memory must have made the humiliation of 
the French, on the memorable 3d of September, doubly bitter 
and mortifying. The town was long an independent princi- 
pality, but was united to France during the reign of Louis 
XIII. It contains nothing noteworthy ; has an active agricul- 
tural trade, and extensive manufactures, with several schools 



i 



^ RIVERS OF FRANCE. 207 

and colleges of local reputation. The citadel, in the south- 
east quarter of the town, contains a large arsenal, which is 
almost the only public building worth visiting. Its university 
under Protestant auspices enjoyed an extended fame until the 
revocation of the Edict of Nantes caused its suppression. 

The river Marne, a sluggish stream, two hundred and ten 
miles long, rises south of the fortified town of /Langres ; be- 
comes navigable at St. Didier, and unites with the Seine at 
Charenton in the immediate vicinity of Paris, 

The river Mouse has its origin in the department of Haute- 
Marne ; passes through the department of Yosges ; disappears 
underground near Bazoilles ; reappears four miles distant in 
the neighborhood of Keufchateau ; becomes navigable at Yer- 
dun ; runs through Belgium and Holland ; empties into the 
l^orth Sea by three principal mouths ; its length being fom* 
hundred and thirty-five miles. 

The Moselle, whose waters, by the bye, are not blue, as 
the popular song goes, but decidedly brown, rises in the depart- 
ment of Yosges — is very tortuous, and often exceedingly pic- 
turesque. It is navigable from its confluence with the Meurthe, 
near Frouard, and separates Luxemburg from what has been 
Khenish Prussia, and after flowing for some three hundred and 
thirty miles, joins the Phine near Coblentz. 

The Loire rises in Ardeche, at an elevation of nearly four 
thousand feet; flows northwest and west a distance of six 
hundred and forty-five miles — it is the longest river in France 
— and empties into the Bay of Biscay. It is a rapid stream, 
and its navigation is usually interrupted at least half of the 
year from ice in winter, drought in summer, and floods during 
the spring and autumn, all of which may be safely said to im- 
pair it for practical purposes. It has a number of affluents, 
and is navigable, when Nature permits, from La Norie going 
with the current, and up to Poanne against the current. The 
river is connected by canals with the Saone, Seine, and 
Yilaine. 

The Seine — as much a source of interest during the Franco- 
Prussian war as the Potomac was during our rebellion — has 



208 THE VOSGES MOUNTAINS. • 

its fountain-head in Cote d'Or; becomes navigable at Mery; 
flows through Paris, where its width is from three to five 
hundred feet, and empties into the English Channel at Havi'e. 
It is five hundred miles long, navigable three fifths of its course, 
and strikingly picturesque in its lower part. It communicates 
by canals with the Loire, Meuse, Moselle, and Rhine, and is 
of great advantage to the inland commerce of the country. 

The Yosges mountains, where so many strategic movements 
were attempted by both sides, and made brilliantly successful 
in several instances by the Germans, nm from the northeast 
of France to the southeast of Belgium, the chain terminating 
on the left bank of the Rhine, near Mainz. The mountains, 
connected with the chain of the Cote d'Or, the Jura, and the 
Ardennes, are frequently so rounded in form that they are called 
balloons ; two of these balloons, Alsace and Groebwiller, being 
respectively forty-seven hundred and forty-three hundred feet 
high. The summits of the Yosges are often covered with 
dense forests, and contain coal, copper, lead, and silver. 

Luxemburg, of which so much has been heard since the 
Germans crossed the Rhine, is a Grand Duchy "belonging to 
Holland, with an area of twelve hundred and thirty square 
miles. It is generally well wooded, but is rugged, mountain- 
ous, and covered in many parts with heaths and marshes. It 
was first governed by Counts, one of whom, Henry lY., be- 
came Emperor of Germany, in 1308, under the title of Henry 
YIL Forty-six years after, Charles lY. made it a duchy, and 
in 1443 it passed by marriage to Philip of Burgundy, and 
through him to Spain. In 1659 part of it was ceded to the 
French ; but in 1Y14 it fell into the possession of Austria, until 
the revolutionary ai-mies made it part of the French Empire. 
It was converted into a Grand Duchy in 1814, and in 1830, 
in consequence of the revolution of Belgium, a portion of it 
became a Belgian province. Henceforth it will probably be a 
part of the newly-formed great German Empire. Its popula- 
tion is something over 200,000. 

Luxemburg — capital of the Grand Duchy — ^is so strong by 
nature, and by the engineering skill which has been lavished 



LUXEMBURG. 209 

upon it, that it has been pronounced, after Gibraltar, as nearly 
impregnable as any place in Europe. The high town, in con- 
tradistinction to the low town, is two hundred feet above the 
.latter, on a steep rock, approached from below by flights of 
steps and zig-zag streets cut out of the solid stone. The entire 
rock is surrounded by a massive wall, deep ditches, and formid- 
able outworks. That part of the fortifications called Le Bouc 
is a rocky promontory commanding the valley on all sides. 
The town is substantially built, and contains something like 
11,000 people, exclusive of the garrison, usually between 5,000 
and 6,000 men. 

No war in Europe has done so much to discredit fortifica- 
tions as that between France and Germany. Nearly all the 
towns where the battle raged have excellent defences, and 
Yauban and other eminent engineers exhausted their art in 
fortifying the French frontier. Any one with half a military 
eye would doubt that the formidable fortifications in the north 
of France could be so ineffectual to resist any armies as they 
were to resist the Germans. It was supposed that the struggle be- 
tween the two nations would be mainly confined to the fortresses 
on the frontier, and that the greater part of the contest would be 
in regular sieges, alternating between assaults and sorties. The 
idea that the Germans would invade France with little diffi- 
culty, and adroitly avoid the strongholds especially designed to 
keep them out, was not seriously entertained by any number of 
intelligent minds. If Yauban be conscious of the melancholy 
failure of the militar}'- defences he spent so much of his life in 
perfecting, he must be disappointed and indignant indeed. 
Time, treasure, and intellect in almost unlimited amount, were 
devoted to fortifications which the Prussians marched by 
without pausing to reflect what innovations they had made 
upon the art of war. 

Strasburg, formerly the capital of the province of Alsace, is 
generally regarded as the strongest fortified city in France. 
Near the Yosges mountains, and really on the west bank of 
the 111, it is practically situated on the Rhine, communicating 
with Kehl (in Baden), on the opposite side, by a bridge of 
14 



210 STRASBURG AND VERSAILLES. 

boats across the latter river. The town is triangular in fomi, 
enclosed by bastioned ramparts, strengthened by numerous 
outworks, and entered by seven gates. The famous citadel, at 
the eastern extremity of the city, is pentagonal in shape, and 
has always been considered one of the masterpieces of Yauban. 
It was there the gallant Urich took refuge during the terrific 
bombardment until he was forced to surrender by the clamor 
of the citizens. Albeit a French city, it is extremely German 
in appearance, and most of its inhabitants speak both lan- 
guages. The vast Cathedral, thought by many to be the 
finest ecclesiastical edifice on the Continent, though founded 
in 504, and begun in the tenth, was not completed until the 
fifteenth century. One of its projected spires has never been 
built ; but the other, four hundred and sixty-six feet, is the 
highest in Europe, and can be seen for miles around. The 
church is richly decorated with sculpture, and the choir, at- 
tributed to Charlemagne, is greatly admired, as are its stained- 
glass windows and the wonderful astronomical clock. Its 
population, about 85,000, notwithstanding they are more 
German than French, are very proud to be included among 
the latter, and have little liking for their old nationality. The 
Germans in holding Strasburg, declare they are only reclaim- 
ing their own, which is true enough historically, since Louis 
XIY. seized it and annexed it to France without any pretext 
whatever. Popularly, the old town is best known for its pates 
de foie gras ; but its manufactures, especially beer and leather, 
are varied and extensive. Its canals connecting it with the 
principal rivers of France, and with the Danube, are great 
commercial aids. Regular steamers ply between Basel, Hotter- 
dam and London. 

Yersailles, where the headquarters of King William were 
during the siege of Paris, is but ten miles from the capital, 
and so remarkable for the elegance and regularity of its con- 
struction, that it has the reputation of one of the handsomest 
towns on the Continent. The magnificent palace, built by 
Louis XIY., was for more than a century the residence of the 
kings of France. During Louis Philippe's reign the palace 



TOURS, ORLEANS, AND BORDEAUX. 211 

was restored, and is now used as an liistorical museum. The 
vast galleries, with their paintings and statues arranged in 
chronological order, the splendid gardens, fountains, groves 
and walks, with the pretty palaces called the Great and Little 
Trianon, are such objects of interest and attraction that Ver- 
sailles is one of the first places the stranger visits. 

Tours (the provisional government took refuge there for a 
while) is situated at the extremity of a fine plain, and its chief 
entrance is by a superb bridge over the Loire. The old town 
is irregular and poorly built ; but much of the new part is 
ambitious in design, and not without beauty. Its present 
population is not more than 35,000, though it once boasted 
of more than twice that number. Like so many of the French 
cities, the revocation of the Edict of Nantes crippled its com- 
merce, and dwarfed its prosperity to such an extent that it has 
never recovered. The two towers, St. Martin and Charle- 
magne, are conspicuous from every part of the town, and are 
the sole relics the revolutions of 1793 have left of the great 
Cathedral of St. Martin of Tours, which had stood for twelve 
hundred years. 

Orleans on the Loire, sixty miles from Paris, is very old, 
and in the main ill-built. It was erected on the ruins of the 
ancient Genabum, and was afterward captured and destroyed 
by Caesar. Capital of the first kingdom of Burgundy, it has 
given the title of Duke to a member of the royal family since 
the days of Philippe of Valois. Orleans is famous in history 
for its deliverance from the English, who had besieged it for 
six months, by the heroism of Joan of Arc, ever afterward 
known as the Maid of Orleans. Its population, which has 
undergone very little change for the last twenty years, is in 
round numbers 50,000. 

Bordeaux, in the southwest of France, on the Garonne, 
sixty miles from, its mouth, and the sea, was the seat of the 
provisional government after its flight from Tours. It is noted 
for its commerce and its culture, and is a very fiourishing city. 
The old part of the town is meanly built, with narrow and 
crooked streets; but the new quarters, particularly Chapeau 



212 DAMAGE BY THE WAR. 

Kouge and the Allees cle Tourny, are noticeably handsome. 
The bridge across the Garonne is sixteen hundred feet long ; 
has seventeen arches, and is a splendid work. The remains 
of the palace of Gallienus, the Cathedral, the Church of Feuil- 
lants, in which Montaigne is buried, and the great theatre, 
built by Louis XYI., seating four thousand persons, are the 
principal objects of interest. Bordeaux is the first port in the 
south of France, and the second in the country ; its commerce 
extending to all parts of the world, and its manufactures in- 
cluding almost everything. It is the seat and centre of a vast 
wine trade, in which the greater part of its merchants are en- 
gaged. It was sacked by the Visigoths, ravaged by the 
Saracens and Normans; passed under the dominion of Eng- 
land by the marriage of Eleonore of Guienne to Henry Plan- 
tagenet : but since 1453, has belonged to France. Its harbor 
is capable of containing twelve hundred ships, and is accessible 
to vessels of six hundred tons burden. The population is 
something like 170,000, and steadily increasing. 

The injury done to Paris and other French cities, and to 
the country generally, by the war, cannot for a long while be 
estimated. The suburbs and vicinity of the capital have of 
necessity suffered severely, and it must be many years before 
the great centre of civilization, the most beautiful and delight- 
ful city of the world, will be what it was under the reign of 
Louis Napoleon, who, whatever his defects, spared no pains to 
improve and adorn the charming metropolis of the modem 
world. 

Fontainebleau, thirty-eight miles from Paris, has felt the 
scourge of war, and the German soldiers have week after week 
filled its spacious streets. Its famous palace is one of the most 
magnificent in the country, and various monarchs who have 
made it their residence have lavished upon it money without 
stint. Henry lY., Louis XI Y., Napoleon Bonaparte and Louis 
Philippe expended upon it at least $8,000,000 or $10,000,000, 
not to speak of Louis Napoleon's prodigality. The park is 
beautifully laid out, and adorned with fountains, cascades, 
lakes, grottos, statues and temples corresponding to the 



ST. CLOUD. 213 

splendor of the palace. The forest has an area of eighty-four 
square miles, and abounds in every kind of game. The town, 
with a population of 10,000, is the birthplace of several of the 
French kings, and has numerous historic associations. 

The Chateau of St. Cloud, five or six miles from Paris, is 
exceedingly pleasant and handsome, with its extensive park and 
beautiful fountains, and was a- favorite residence with Louis 
Napoleon, as with other French monarchs. Henry lY. was 
assassinated there, and there Bonaparte caused ' himself to be 
proclaimed first consul. The Chateau was set on fire and 
burned during the war, which is deeply to be regretted, both 
for esthetic and historical reasons. 

The fine wood of Vincennes, a favorite resort of the Pa- 
risians, is said to have been partially destroyed, as have no 
doubt many beautiful buildings and delightful spots of which 
we have yet to hear the particulars. 



CHAPTER XXVn. 




THE FKENCH LEADEES. 

\0 nation of modern times has suffered more se- 
verely than the French during any war of equal 
duration. An extraordinary proportion of their 
general officers were placed hors de combat j those 
■ not killed, wounded or captured, being relieved or 
set aside with a fickleness and injustice characteris- 
tic of a failing cause. Too much space would be 
required to mention all the unsuccessful leaders, military and 
civil, the French had during the struggle ; but I wish to give 
brief personal sketches of the most prominent men who figured 
in the contest. A number who were conspicuous have passed 
out of sight, if not out of memory ; and I shall confine my- 
self, therefore, to those who were, at least for a time, central 
figures in the most sanguinary drama of recent centuries. 

Jean Jacques Alexis Urich, the French general who made 
such a stubborn resistance to the besieging armies at Strasburg, 
is a native Alsatian, having been born at Phalsburg, February 
15, 1802. He was a military student at St. Cyr, and became 
a sub-lieutenant in 1820. He rose rapidly; served in the 
Crimea, and afterward commanded at Paris a division of in- 
fantry, which was comprised in the f fth army corps of Italy. 
In 185T he was made commander and grand officer of the 
Legion of Honor. He married late in life the once celebrated 
dancer, Marie Taglioni, who retired from the stage nearly 
twenty-four years ago. Urich has always distinguished him- 
self for coolness, resolution, and courage, and it is stated that 
the mortification of being compelled to surrender the admira- 



GENERAL MACMAHON. 215 

bly fortified city of which he had charge, has ever since preyed 
upon his mind. Though a German by descent, as is evident 
by his name, he is, in common with most of the Alsatians, in- 
flexibly loyal to France ; and it was a matter of personal no 
less than professional pride with him to hold their ancient 
capital against its enemies to the very last. Urich is quite 
German-looking ; has a strong, bold, nervous face, and a decid- 
edly military bearing. 

Patrick Maurice MacMahon might be thought, by his name, 
one of those peculiar Frenchmen who abound in Dublin and 
Cork. He is descended from an ancient Catholic family of 
Ireland that attached itself to the fortunes of the Stuarts ; but 
for generations he has had French ancestors, and is himself the 
son of a peer of France, who was an intimate friend of Charles 
X. He was educated at St. Cyr ; became a staff officer, and 
after varied service won many laurels as Captain at the assault 
on Constantino. He afterward became Lieutenant-Colonel, 
General of Brigade, Officer of the Legion of Honor, and Com- 
mander in rapid succession. He particularly distinguished 
himself in the Crimea, and was entrusted with the perilous 
honor of blowing up the works of the Malakoff, which was 
the key of Sevastopol. He accomplished his purpose, and by 
the most heroic bravery, backed by the desperate courage of 
his soldiers, he finally drove the Russians from their position. 
Subsequently he commanded the twelfth corps of the army of 
the Alps, in the Italian war ; and for the glory he won on the 
field of Magenta, he was made Duke of Magenta and Marshal 
of France. At the coronation of the King of Prussia, in 1861, 
MacMahon was the representative of France, and displayed an 
almost regal pomp on the occasion. On his return home, he 
was appointed to the command of the third army corps, in 
place of Marshal Canrobert, and in 1864 was made Governor 
of Algeria. 

As soon as France had declared war against Prussia, Mac- 
Mahon was summoned to Paris, and made next in command 
to Napoleon of all the armies in the field. He was regarded 
as the ablest soldier of the nation, and great expectations were 



216 GENERALS BAZAINE AND BOURBAKI. 

formed of his future success. All these were shattered, how- 
ever, at the surrender of Sedan, where MacMahon was wound- 
ed, as was then supposed, mortally. But he recovered only to 
experience how bitter is the repeated defeat of ^ the armies once 
deemed invincible. 

MacMahon, though in his sixty-third year, is hale and vig- 
orous as a man of forty. He has a fine military bearing, and 
withal a pleasant and rather benevolent face. His hair is quite 
gray, his features strong, and his eye dark and penetrating, 
which, with an erect and graceful carriage, stamp him as a 
model of a French Marshal. 

Francois Achille Bazaine springs from a military family, 
and has shown by his skill and courage in the field that he has 
inherited its martial virtues. Like most of the French officers, 
he served in Algeria, and won honors at the siege of Sevasto- 
pol. He took a prominent part in supporting the authority of 
Maximilian in Mexico, and before he entered the capital suc- 
ceeded Forey as General-in-chief of the expedition. While in 
that country he married a Mexican woman, with the intention, 
it is said, of gaining political influence through the members 
of her family. He was charged in Mexico with duplicity, dis- 
honesty, and cruelty, and his reputation has suffered not a little 
in consequence. In his engagements with the Germans he fell 
behind his reputation, and finally, shut up at Metz, was forced 
to surrender. Bazaine looks more like a sturdy, stubborn sol- 
dier than a distinguished captain. In person he is short and 
stout, and his face, though intelligent, reveals more strength 
of will than intellect. He is now in his sixtieth year, and has 
received the usual badges of distinction, such as crosses and 
medals, in sufficient number to flatter the vanity of any man 
ambitious of military fame. 

Charles Denis Bourbaki is of Greek origin, but was bom 
in Paris, April 22, 1816. He was for a long while an officer 
in the Zouaves ; played a conspicuous part in the Crimea at 
Alma, Inkermann, and Sevastopol, and did gallant duty during 
the Italian campaign. During the late war he fought nobly in 
the cause of his country, and probably accomplished all that 



I 




GENERAL MacMAHON. 



GENERALS CffANZY, FAIBHERBE, AND TROCHU. 217 

could be accomplished under circumstances so adverse. Though 
beaten again and again, he was always ready to fight, and to 
lead the forlomest of forlorn hopes. 

General Chanzy, who was commander of the army of the 
Loire, and on whom for a while the' last hopes of the French 
cause rested, was born in the Ardennes, in 1824. At sixteen 
he shipped as a seaman on board a man-of-war, but after twelve 
months' service grew weary of the sea, and determined to 
enter the army. After leaving the military school, where he 
had been conspicuous for his attainments, he became an officer 
in a regiment of Zouaves, and lived in Africa until the Italian 
war, into which he entered with great ardor. He covered 
himself with glory at Solferino and in other engagements, and 
then returned to Africa. Recalled from there only last Octo- 
ber, when the cause of France looked dark and desperate 
enough, he was soon put at the head of the army of the Loire. 
He felt, no doubt, that it was too late for glorj'^, were it not for 
patriotism ; but he did his utmost to stem the tide, which, ere 
long, swept him away. If he did not gain success, he deserved 
it, by untiring energy, unfaltering will, ceaseless vigilance, and 
boundless courage. 

Louis Cesar Faidherbe, born at Lisle, January 3, 1818, 
entered the Polytechnic school in his native city at the age of 
twenty, and the school of Metz two years after. Before he 
was twenty-five, he had taken part in many military expedi- 
tions, in Africa ; in Senegal became an officer of engineers in 
1852; and, two years later, was made governor of the colony. 
He was superseded as governor in 1861 ; but he resumed his 
functions, and was not recalled until at his own request in 
July, 1865. Since then, he has gone through the regular 
grade of promotion, and in all the positions in which he has 
been placed, has discharged his duty as a thorough and compe- 
tent soldier. In his efforts to relieve Paris by making a 
diversion of the besieging army, he omitted nothing that 
energy, skill and valor could achieve ; but his efforts, like those 
of the other French commanders, came too late. 

Louis Jules Trochu, the defender of Paris, and the one man 



218 LOUIS ADOLPHE THIERS. 

in whom the French reposed faith after they had lost confi- 
dence in nearly all their chieftains, was born in the Morbihan 
— part of the old province of Bretagne — in the Spring of 
1815. After receiving his military education, he was attached 
to the staff of Marshal Bugeaud in Algeria ; was aide-de-camp 
to St, Arnand in the Crimea, and afterward commanded a 
brigade until the end of the war. He was general of division, 
and remarkable for the skill and bravery he displayed during 
the Italian war. At the close of 1861, he had seen twenty- 
five years of service, and ha(J taken part in eighteen campaigns. 
He is the author of several valuable military works. During 
the memorable siege of Paris his position was one of the most 
trying that can fall to the lot of military commanders. He 
had dissensions within and the enemy without ; but he bore 
himself calmly and ably through every diflSculty and danger, 
and seemed unwilling to yield the unequal struggle even when 
nature, fortune and fate combined against him. 

Trochu has always been regarded by his friends and com- 
panions in arms as a man of the finest nature and most ster- 
ling character, combining modesty with bravery, amiability 
with resolution, ability with candor, and kindness of heart with 
chivalry of spirit. His appearance is prepossessing ; his face — 
more like that of a student than a warrior in expression — being 
pale and pensive, while his features are regular, clear-cut and 
strong. Many incidents of his private life prove him to be 
gentle, generous and noble ; and, though his extreme modesty 
has heretofore prevented his advancement and the acknowl- 
edgment of his abilities, it is not unlikely that a grateful 
country will yet crown him with the honor he deserves. 

Among the many civilians and members of the Provisional 
Government prominent after the fall of the Empire, Thiers, 
Favre and Gambetta were the most conspicuous. 

Louis Adolphe Thiers was born at Marseilles, April 16, 
1T97, having sprung from a family of cloth merchants ruined 
by the Revolution. He was admitted to the Bar at an early 
age ; but soon perceived that he was better adapted to politics 
and literature than to the practice of law. In his twenty-fourth 



JULES FAVRB. 219 

year lie went to Paris to seek his fortune, where he became 
famous as a politician and author, and acquired an ample for- 
tune. He has also distinguished himself as a journalist, and 
for his violent opposition to the Napoleonic dynasty was im- 
prisoned and expelled from the country. After the adoption 
of a more liberal constitution for the Empire, he entered the 
Corps Legislatif, and delivered many eloquent speeches on the 
side of the opposition. He always protested against the move- 
ment of the Italians and Germans toward national unity, and 
censured the late Emperor because he did not interfere to pre- 
vent it. He has always dishked Prussia, and earnestly advo- 
cated warlike measures toward her in 1866. He disapproved 
of the declaration of war last July because the nation was not 
then prepared. In spite of many political errors, Thiers has 
ever been consistent, honest and resolute, and since Sedan, has 
striven most patriotically to stop the bleeding wounds of his 
country. He has sought aid and sympathy from every nation ; 
but his energy and zeal have been of no avail. Thoroughly 
French in temperament and character, and with a record upon 
which there is no etain, few of his countrymen will more 
deeply lament the eclipse of the great and glorious nation. 

Thiers looks more like a merchant than an author or orator, 
being short and fleshy. He has a full round face, very fresh 
and youthful for his years, a bright eye, strong nose and firm 
mouth. As energetic in body as vigorous in mind, he is one 
of the youngest old men in public life in all France. The 
natural expression of his face is pleasant and genial ; but it 
often becomes stern, almost fierce, when he is excited. If you 
were to meet him in the Rue Yivienne, you would suppose 
him to be a prominent member of the Bourse, rather than a 
leading statesman, a fiery joumaHst and a distinguished moulder 
of public opinion. 

Jules Favre, bom at Lyons in 1809, went to Paris in his 
twenty-first year to practice law. As an advocate his reputa- 
tion has been above that of any man in France. Of recent 
years he has distinguished himself in politics, and in the Corps 
Legislatif was one of the firmest members of the opposition. 



220 LEON GAMBETTA. 

He has shown himself a man of action as well as thought, and 
has striven nobly to sustain the Republic in its darkest and 
gloomiest hours. Personally, Favre has a strong, genial, inter- 
esting face, which might be mistaken for that of an American 
or Englishman. His features are large, and his clear, penetrat- 
ing eye under heavy brows seems to see into the soul of things. 
Leon Gambetta is not a Corsican, as has been stated ; hav- 
ing been born October 30, 1838, at Cahors, in the south of 
France, of a Genoese family. He studied law, and was ad- 
mitted to the bar before he was twenty-one, and gained very 
notable success. In politics he has been an " irreconcilable " of 
the Rochefort type, and in the Chamber of Deputies has op- 
posed again and again with burning words the views and course 
of the government. After the declaration of the Republic he 
was made Minister of War, and has been untiring in energy 
and full of resources in the midst of disasters. He seems to 
have been ubiquitous, and though he may at times have erred 
in judgment, no son of France has done more than he to up- 
hold the fortunes of the doomed country, or striveji harder to 
expel the enemy — O how vainly ! — from the invaded soil. 
It is strange he has not broken down completely under his 
tremendous labors. He is very Italian in appearance, of me- 
dium size, rather thick set ; has a dark and piercing eye, long 
black hair, and an expression of passionate energy in his face, 
which well illustrates his character. It is thought by many, 
if he had held his office when the war began, that the re- 
sult would have been very different from what it has. No 
man connected with the Provisional Government, unless it be 
Trochu, manifested such activity, perseverance and courage in 
the face of difficulties so formidable and obstacles so over- 
whelming. 



CHAPTER XXYIII. 




SPAIN. 

.PAIlSr," said Talleyrand, "is ^ country u\ 
which two and two make five." Seeming 
so to a Frenchman, an American might be par- 
doned if he believed it a land in which two and 
two made six, or any other number. Ancient 
Iberia is certainly a region of the imexpected. 
It is full of surprises and disappointments. 
Nothing ever happens there as one supposes it will, and the 
knowledge of to-day is ever contradicted by the experience of 
to-morrow. For more than three centuries the country has 
been an enigma — politically, religiously, and socially — that no 
other European nation could solve ; and its present condition 
augments its anomaly. Where else has there been so long a 
Queen without a dominion, and a kingdom without a king? 
They who have never visited Spain may wonder ; but those 
who have been there will be incapable of new surprises. The 
land where "yes" means "no," and "immediately" "next 
week " — where inn-keepers assure you they have every deli- 
cacy, when they know they are besieged by starvation — where 
there are rivers without bridges, and bridges without rivers — 
where highwaymen rob you of your last escudo, and then 
piously commend your soul to God — where "princely hospi- 
tality " signifies fleas for bed-fellows and garlic for breakfast — 
the land, where are all these and many other contradictions, 
soon prepares you for whatever may happen. 

Land of romance and superstition, of chivalry and bigotry, 
of Lope de Vega and Cervantes, of Cortez and the Cid, of Moor- 



222 



FANCY AND REALITT. 



ish refinement and Gothic rudeness, of the Alhambra and the 
Inquisition, of heroism and persecution, of art and assassination, 
of poetry and intrigue, of splendor and squalor, we have all, at 
some time, built gorgeous castles upon your mountain sides, 
and viewed with rapture our broad estates watered by the 
Xenil and Guadalquivir. We shall never see you as you ap- 
peared to us in our youthful dreams ; for the outward eye dis- 
pels the visions of imagination ruthlessly and forever. Your 
moonlight will never fall so soft, even in Andalusia, nor your 
guitars drop such sweetness, though under the towers of Se- 
ville, as came to us when reverie blossomed in the rich soil of 
the heart. The splendors of Cordova's cathedral will lessen 
when we stand in its marble aisles ; and the nightingales will 
never fill the evening with such music as they did before our 
wandering feet had borne us to the ancient palace of the 
Moorish kings. 

"Wlien I first went whirling over the soil — in America we 
should call it creeping — in the midst of cigarette-smoke, that 
made the compartment look like a miniature edition of the 
Blue Grotto of Capri, and when, trying to smile serenely at 
the three sallow cahalleros opposite, who sat dignifiedly smok- 
ing me to death, I heard at the stations, " Yalladolid," "Ma- 
drid, " Sevilla," " Granada," roared out in gutturals fragrant 
with garlic, my noble castles crumbled, and the raw wind of 
the Sierras swept down and chilled my buds of sentiment to 
death. 

If quite diflferent from what fancy and romance had painted 
it, I was very glad to see Spain, and my memory of it is still 
most welcome. Three things I have found needful to a satis- 
factory visit — patience, politeness, ^tv^^l j[>esetas. 

Armed with these, I could be mildly seraphic on trains that 
seemed as if they would never start, and could inquire unmoved 
for "accommodations" at the homeliest ^05a<?a. 

As air travellers know, the impression a strange country- 
makes depends largely on what they see first — on the way they 
enter it. To visit Spain advantageously it is best to go, as I 
did, from France across the Pyrenees, instead of going, as 



I 



MENTAL ACCLIMATION. 223 

many do, from Cadiz through picturesque Andalusia to the 
less favored provinces, ending with the dreariness and sterility 
of the Castiles. No two cities on the Continent are more 
different than Paris and Madrid ; and such quaint and curious 
towns as Vittoria, Burgos, and Yalladolid prepared me for the 
strange kingdom I had entered. 

No person need be told when he has crossed the coniines 
of the French Empire. Having done so, I saw at once I was 
among another people — almost in another world. No more 
the vivacious and mercurial manner of the Gaul greeted me ; 
but in its stead the grave and measured deportment of the 
representative of half a dozen races. The train on which I 
travelled, though the creation of French capital, seemed affected 
by the soil and atmosphere of Spain. Its speed was retarded ; 
it was hampered with delays at every station ; it became the 
victim of endless formalities that threatened never to untangle 
themselves. I discovered I must undergo a certain acclimating 
process of mind as well as of body. The mood and bearing 
that had served me elsewhere on the Continent would not sup- 
port me there. I had found that pretended loss of temper and 
assumed violence of manner are beneficial in France, Germany, 
and Italy ; but in Spain they only defeat the tourist's ends. 

Peninsular travel is favorable to one of the highest Chris- 
tian virtues — resignation. This is less difficult to practice the 
moment one discovers it is absolutely necessary. Job would 
have found his sphere in Spain ; at least, the need of exercis- 
ing his characteristic quality. If the patient are the strong, 
they who have "done" Spain should have few weaknesses. I 
am confident that I have an outward calmness and a degree of 
self-discipline I never owned before I crossed the Pyrenees. I 
have had my patience tried all the way from Pamplona to 
Cadiz, from Badajoz to Barcelona, and though I may have lost 
my temper, I never advertised for its return. Spanish officials 
are often very provoking ; but they won't be hurried, and can't 
be bullied to advantage. Inn-keepers hold as an article of faith 
that their patrons are immortal, and that a breakfast ordered 
at eight in the morning will answer quite as well at the same 



224 SPANISH POLITENESS. 

hour in the evening. But if you use even such mild and 
allowable oaths as Carai, Caramba, or Vaya usted al demonic, 
you will not help your case. Show a certain energy in polite- 
ness, a perseverance pf courtesy, and you will be duly re- 
warded. 

I remember at Yalladolid, that after ordering a bottle of 
win^ again and again at the Fonda Universal, and failing to 
get it in four hours, I sent for the host, and told him I sup- 
posed his crowded house — it had but two more visitors besides 
myself — prevented him from attending to me, but tliat if he 
would not keep me waiting more than six hours longer, I 
should esteem him the noblest of gentlemen. The wine came 
within five minutes, and afterward I had no further cause to 
complain of delay. 

In driving about Burgos I could not induce my calesero to 
go beyond a snail's pace, until I told him I was in no haste 
whatever, but that his mule was walking in his sleep, and 
might fall and hurt himself. He replied, " Muchas gracias, 
Senor,^^ and whipped up in fine style for the remainder of the 
afternoon. 

As respects manners, the Spaniards deem themselves the 
politest people on the planet, of which they think Spain much 
the best and by far the most important part. If manners do 
not make the man on the Peninsula, they go far toward insur- 
ing his comfort or its opposite. The natives are certainly 
managed by manners. Any departure from civility, however 
small, is always resented, and strict observation of it attended 
with remunerative results. One of their proverbs, " Politeness 
gets what money can't purchase," experience has often taught 
me the truth of. The Spaniards, naturally courteous, expect 
courtesy from others, and appreciate it to the fullest. When 
you travel, never light a cigar or cigarette without ofiering one 
to those in the same carriage. They won't take it unless urged ; 
but it is the custom of the country ; it shows you are a man 
of the world and of good breeding. A Spaniard always refuges 
once — that is etiquette— and you must do likewise ; but when 
he is invited a second time he accepts. At a cafe or restaurant, 



SFANISR ETIQUETTE. 225 

it' you oi'der coffee, chocolate, or wine, breakfast or dinner, and 
there are persons at the same table, invite them to join you. 
It will cost you nothing, for they won't do it ; but the invita- 
tion will advance you in their estimation. 

Lifting the hat wheji entering the presence of others is more 
imperative in Spain than in France or Italy. ISTot to do so in 
a diHgencia, railway coach, or a room, is thought a violation of 
good manners, if not a positive offence. I have seen sensitive 
Castilians look angry, even fierce, and twirl their moustache 
with oflfended dignity, when foreigners neglected to raise their 
hats. But when the careless persons remembered, and com- 
plied with the demand of etiquette, the sallow faces relaxed, 
and a gleam of good-humor darted out of the jet-black eyes. 
Hat-lifting and cigar-giving are passports to good treatment 
everywhere. Many strangers have made fast friends by such 
simple means. Should I be sent to Madrid on a diplomatic 
mission, I should engage a servant specially to elevate my 
sombrero, and a tobacconist to supply me constantly with the 
best of Havanas. By liberal use of both, I think I could 
manage the ministers as wxU as the Cortes. 

The inhabitants of the different provinces, though they 
know and care little about each other, all consider themselves 
Spaniards, and as such are jealous of their dignity and reputa- 
tion. They are very nice as to their personal honor {jpundo- 
nor), and regard themselves as gentlemen, whatever their 
station in life, and the peer of any foreigner, be his position or 
rank what it may. They often appear cold and reserved ; but 
they are easily won, and once conciliated are extremely oblig- 
ing. Etiquette is very rigid with them, and never departed 
from in public. "When you visit any one formally the proper 
costume is black, as it is with us. If the person you have 
called on be out, you write on the corner of your card E. P. {en 
persona), and leave it with the servant. First visits demand 
marked courtesy, which means nothing unless it is repeated at 
the second visit. If you are welcome you will be conducted 
to the best room, placed on the right-hand of the sofa, and 
your hat treated with as much consideration as yourself, your 
15 



226 FEMININE ADVANTAGES. 

host seizing it ardently and placing it on a vacant chair. As 
you take leave of a lady you say, "I hurl myself at your feet, 
Madam" {A los pies de usted, Senora) ; and she responds, 
with an eloquent casting down of the eyelids and a graceful 
sweep of her fan, "I kiss your hand, Sir" {Beso a xisted la 
mano, Senor), for the reason, perhaps, that neither yon nor she 
intend to do anything of the kind. Then she looks tender, 
and uses the phrase, "May you depart with God, and continue 
well" ( Ya^a usted con Dios, que usted lo^^f^se Men) ! Where- 
upon you assume a theologically gallant air^ — to be acquired 
only in Spain — and reply, "May you remain with God" 
{Quede usted con Dios) ! 

The name of the Deity occupies a very prominent place in 
Peninsular phraseology, and is employed under a variety of 
circumstances. Your dearest friend intrusts you to the Divine 
keeping as he folds you in his embrace ; and the robber does 
the same when he points his blunderbuss at your head, and 
gently requests you to stand and deliver. 

Men are treated very differently from women by Spanish 
ladies. These seldom rise on receiving the former, or offer 
their hand, or accept the arm of their escort ; but they kiss each 
other at coming and going. The striking contrast is thought 
to arise from inherent feminine coquettishness, the dark-eyed 
Castilians desiring to show men what delights they are debarred 
from by reason of their sex. One of the reasons assigned by 
the women for not giving their hand to their masculine friends 
is, that the doing so disarranges their mantilla ; and another, 
that it is likely to be mistaken for a matrimonial intention. 
The Spanish men, who are always saying ill-natured and cyni- 
cal things about the other sex, declare the mantilla is a much 
more serious matter than marriage ; that an ill-fitting garment 
is more difficult to manage than a poor husband. 

Unless a Spaniard presses you again and again to repeat 
your visit, and assures you his house is yours, and it and all it 
contains at your disposal, you can conclude you are not wel- 
come; that you have not created a favorable impression. 
Birthdays are made much of, and when they occur formal 



MEETING AN ACQUAINTANCE. 227 

visits are expected. IS'ew- Year's is devoted to calls, as on this 
side of the sea, and presents, remarkable for tlieir fitness rather 
than value, are often made to those on whom you call. 

It is etiquette to avoid the appearance of being alone with 
a lady within doors ; so that on entering a drawing-room you 
must leave the door open, or at least ajar, if she be unattended. 
Spaniards are jealous and suspicious, and inclined to put the 
worst construction upon appearances and opportunities. They 
never trust their women ; and for that reason, no doubt, are 
often deceived. It is the tendency of our nature to be no 
better than the opinion held of us. 

I have found it wholly beneath the Iberian dignity to be in 
haste ; and as the people have little to do, and less inclination 
to do it, no one is concerned about time. Business, in our 
sense, is either unknown or thought a foreign innovation ; and 
all engagements in the Peninsula are kept as loosely as some 
of the Commandments. The Spanish are very reserved and 
taciturn to strangers; but with their acquaintances they are 
confidential and talkative. One of the penalties of Peninsular 
friendship is the amount of time required for its sustainment. 
To pass your friend in the prado or alameda with a single nod 
and "good-morning" would be an ofifence. You. must not 
only stop ; you must inquire with many liigh-flown compli- 
ments after his health, that of his wnfe, his children, and all his 
near relatives. Unless you exercise some energy, you will be 
kept a quarter of an hour or more in idle talk ; or, perhaps, be 
carried off to a cafe to drink a cup of chocolate or a bottle of 
wine, and discuss the news and scandal of the day. If you 
meet him near your hotel or lodging-house, you must invite 
him in, though he is not expected to enter. Should you un- 
dertake a luncheon or dinner in the house of a friend, eat 
heartily if you would stand well with him, even if your ap- 
petite revolts. You can never convince your host you appre- 
ciate his hospitality unless you consume a certain amount of 
food. 

The American custom of paying for your acquaintances in a 
cafe or restaurant prevails in Spain, though nowhere else on 



228 MONEY THE REGULATOR. 

the Continent. You have more latitude there than here ; for 
you have the privilege of settling the bills of ladies you don't 
know, if you like their appearance, by informing the waiter 
privately that such is your intention. Formerly gentlemen 
who went on shopping expeditions were in the habit of paying 
for everything their fair friends bought, so that gallantry be- 
came an expensive luxury. It used to be said in Andalusia, 
where women are more coquettish and extravagant than in the 
North, that a long purse was needed for a short walk with a 
lady. The custom is quite obsolete now ; and she who allows 
you to make purchases for her is supposed to be devoid of high- 
breeding, if not of unexceptional morals. They say in Se\dlle, 
"Women who receive money never pay in the same coin." 

In the fact that jpesetas render excellent service, Spain is 
not different from the rest of Europe. In Great Britain, 
France, Italy, and Germany, you receive perpetual intimations 
to open your purse ; but on the Peninsula you are often led to 
infer that what you want can't be had on any account. You 
are constantly met with Quien sahe ? jEs iviposible f JEso no 
puede ser y and the phrases are accompanied with so much 
gravity and such apparent sincerity that you are inclined to 
believe them true. But they are merely designed to heighten 
the effect of removing the difficulties that stand in the way of 
your pleasure. A few pesetas will melt the most formidable 
obstacles. The silver key unlocks galleries, churches, palaces, 
monasteries, and the secretest of all secret chambers. "W"e 
Anglo-Saxons think time is money. The Iberians hold time 
as nothing, money as everything. They have an aphorism, 
■somewhat cynical of course : "When the heart is dead to love, 
it hears the clink of coin and dances to its tune." If a Span- 
iard of the lower order could be energetic, in an American 
sense, he would be so before the vision of a purse from which 
he had hopes. He undergoes a revolution when he has been 
feed. His face loses its grimness after his palm has been 
crossed with silver, and he no longer persecutes you with the 
national Quien sdbe f which is intended to have the force of 
an overwhelming negative. He who journeys beyond the 



OLD-TIME TRAVEL. 229 

Pyi'enees, and begrudges custodians and servants their propina, 
puts clogs on his feet and scales before his eyes. A judicious 
and enlightened employment of money has been to me the 
best guide. It opened doors that had grown rusty on their 
hinges, and revealed to me what I should never have suspected. 
N^ever fear from the high dignity of an official that he will be 
offended at the offer of money. If he deems it an insult, he 
will pocket it and be silent. 

Since the introduction of railways, which, being built, as I 
have said, by the French, are not the natural outgrowth of the 
country, and are far in advance of the time, the character of 
travel is very different from what it was. Railways are de- 
structive to romance and variety of character ; but away from 
the large cities and off the beaten paths, diligencias, muleteers, 
Maragatos, and the coches de colleras still appeared to me with 
all their peculiar surroundings. Whenever I could, without 
serious inconvenience, travel in the old-fashioned and pictur- 
esque way, I always did ; and I was largely the gainer by it, 
for I saw the people, and their customs and peculiarities, as I 
could never have done otherwise. 

If one could devote two or three years to Spain, and were 
as indifferent to physical discomfort as the natives, he might 
take a horse, or rather mule — the national animal — and go in 
pursuit of adventures after the manner of La Mancha's knight. 
Some time I may don a sombrero, a samarra (fur jacket), the 
indispensable alforjas (saddle-bags), in which a Spaniard cai-ries 
everything, and, mounted on an Andalusian steed, accomphsh 
the geography of the Peninsula. 




CHAPTER XXIX. 



TRAVELLING IN SPAIN. 




'^VERYBODY who does not go by rail travels by 
diligeiicia in Spain, where private conveyances 
are ahnost unknown. Even royalty, in the past, 
was content with the diligeiicia. Don Francisco 
de Paula, the Infante, so transported himself and 
his family from the capital to the sea-coast; and the reason 
Don Enrique gave for not going to Madrid to marry the Queen 
was, that he found it impossible to secure a place in the vehicle. 
The diligencia is lumbering and ungainly enough ; but it fur- 
nishes far better company than in France or Italy, I always 
felt as if I had slipped back to the early part of the century 
when I found myself rumbling over the Castiles or Granada, 
inhaling cigarette smoke, dreaming under the soft night of 
la hclla mco(jnita''s eyes, or watching the movements of the 
mayoral (guard), who, armed to the teeth, would pass, without 
the least change, for Jo86 Maria himself. The guard, like the 
mounted escort, is usually a retired robber who has been 
pardoned and pensioned, and would gladly return to his purs&- 
taking if it were as profitable as it used to be. No doubt 
there is often an understanding between the guard and escort 
and the gentlemen of the road (in Spain, as in the United 
States, everybody claims to be a gentleman, and stealing and 
throat-cutting are not considered bars to the distinction) ; and 
this understanding prevents the plundering of passengers, ex- 
cept in isolated instances. Diligencias are sometimes four or, 
five days and nights on the road ; and as all the passengers are 
locked up together, and as Spaniards of both sexes are very 



SFAiXISH MULETEERS. 231 

susceptible to good-humor, politeness, or a proverb, a person 
of a philosophical turn of mind has an excellent opportunity 
to study manners, character, and costumes. The way-side 
inns are rarely good ; but a gratijicacioncita will thicken the 
chocolate, improve the salad, increase the freshness of the eggs, 
and whiten the bed-linen amazingly. Various have been the 
comedies and melodramas that have had the diligencia for a 
stage ; and the haps and mishaps at the jposadas furnish variety 
and zest to the journey, as bacon does to the famous olla jpod- 
Hda. 

Muleteers are not to be separated from Spain, though they 
are steadily disappearing before the whistle of the locomotive. 
They represent the genuine character of the country ; seem 
half Moorish, and are called arrieros^ from their arre^ arre, 
which corresponds to our "gee up, gee up." I should not 
have seen Konda and Granada to advantage without the assis- 
tance of the muleteer, who, being constantly on the road, 
knows everything that is occurring, and collects a fund of facts 
and gossip which is invaluable to the traveller. A more care- 
less, independent, happy-go-lucky fellow than the arriero I 
have not found on the Continent. Walking by the side of his 
patient beasts, or sitting upon his cargo, with his legs hanging 
over the neck of one of the animals, hstening to the disagree- 
able monotony of the leader's wooden-clappered bell, or sing- 
ing dismally a dismal ditty, he was to me the type of the 
peculiar civilization that surrounds him. lie smokes and 
swears and sings by turns ; carries his guitar and his gun, and 
is ready alike for business gay or business grave, for a serenade 
or a homicide. The guitar and the gun, which are seen to- 
gether in the Asturias no less than in Granada, and which no 
Spaniard can get along without, reveal the softness and the 
sternness, the tenderness and the cruelty, the gallant and the 
revengeful traits of the national character. 

The muleteer is at bottom a fellow of sterling qualities — 
honest, industrious, and good-natured, unless affronted, when 
he becomes, from his stubborn courage and sinewy frame, a 
formidable enemy. The landscape of the country will lack 



232 THE MARAGATOS. 

completeness when it loses the muleteers. They make much 
of its picturesqueness as they go up the zigzag mountain-paths, 
now disappearing, now reappearing, and fill the gloomy defiles 
and aromatic valleys with rude-tinkling bells and discordant 
tunes. Singing seems their favorite occupation ; their fond- 
ness for vocal exercise arising possibly from superstition 
(ineradicable from the soil), which holds that singing frightens 
away evil. If evil owns an ear, especially a cultivated ear, it 
would naturally be alarmed at the high-pitched, shattered notes 
of the arriero, who, like many lovers of the interdicted, sings 
much because he ought not to sing at all. Spain is not a land 
of melody, as Italy is. The voices of the peasants are generally 
harsh ; and the bells, so silvery sweet among the Apennines, 
are clangorous and grating beyond the Pyrenees. 

A singular species of muleteer I found to be the Maragato, 
whose head-quarters are at San Roman, in Astoi-ga. He pre- 
serves his costume, customs, and mode of life like the Jew 
and gypsy. His origin is questionable ; he does not know it 
himself; but he seems to be a kind of Bedouin, to whom a 
mule supplies the place of a camel. He is the medium of 
traffic between Galicia and the Castiles ; wears leather jerkins, 
cloth gaiters, red garters, and a slouching hat, such as is seen 
in Rembrandt's pictures of the Dutch burgomasters, whom 
indeed he much resembles. The attire of the woman — Mara- 
gata — ^is still more unique, consisting, when married, of a 
crescent-shaped head-dress that looks very Moorish. She has 
her hair unconfined and falling over her shoulders, her bodice 
cut square on the bosom, and her petticoat, resembling an 
apron, hangs loosely, is open before and behind, and confined 
at the back with a bright-colored sash. She is very fond of 
jewelry and ornaments, and tricks herself out on gala days 
'with huge ear-rings, chains of metal and coral, medals, crosses, 
relics, and whatever she thinks will assist to make her superb. 
She is a very Oriental and picturesque-looking creature in 
what is considered full dress, and suggests both the Greek 
peasant and the Barbary Jewess. 

I was fortunate in witnessing a wedding, which is a very 



A SPANISH WEDDING. 233 

formal and solemn occasion among the Maragatos, and is 
deemed as momentous there as when celebrated in Fifth Av- 
enue, with all the surroundings that tinsel and tintinnabulation 
can lend. I was informed that those who enter into the state 
hold it to be the most serious step in life, partaking deeply of 
a religious character. The ceremonies were peculiar, and ac- 
companied with a feast. Many were bidden, and no one 
absented himself without good reason ; for it is considered an 
offence to remain away. When the guests were all assembled, 
some one was chosen to preside, and the president put into an 
open dish any sum of money he chose. AU the other men 
were compelled to give the same amount, and the total was 
handed to the bride as a gift. 

They have not learned yet to advertise the contribution 
and the names of the contributors in the newspapers ; but that 
fine custom will come no doubt with larger enlightenment, 
when they have achieved our own repubhcan simplicity of 
manners. The bride was attired in a sombre mantle that 
covered her like a pall, to which, as she never smiled or dis- 
played the least gayety while under its folds, it may fitly be 
compared. She wore it all day, and was never to put it on 
again, I was told, until het husband's death, when it would 
serve for a garment of mourning. Though invited by every 
one, she did not dance on the day of the ceremony, always 
declining very gravely with the words, " IS^ot on such an oc- 
casion as this." At sunrise the next morning two roasted 
chickens were brought to the bedside of the married pair, and 
were eaten without rising, in the presence of witnesses, to 
typify that their Kves were united, and that they were there- 
after to have everything in common. The same evening there 
was a ball, which was opened by the bride and bridegroom ; 
but the dance was so slow and serious that it hardly deserved 
the name. 

The Maragatos are a melancholy people, and take all their 
pleasures and recreations as seriously as if they had been born 
in America. They can be seen any day with their files of 
Leon mules — the best in Spain — walking along the dusty 



234 AN- ANCIENT VEHICLE, 

highway to La Coruiia, swearing and hurling stones in true 
arriero style at their patient beasts. They are much less pro- 
fane than the other muleteers ; but the entire class believe 
violation of the Third Commandment essential to their calling. 
They assured me that it is impossible to manage a mule with- 
out swearing, and have a saying that an ass's ears are made 
long to catch oaths. 

The Maragatos seemed to me the least polite of the inhabi- 
tants of the Peninsula, and to have a greater disHke to " out- 
side barbarians " than any of their countrymen, all of whom 
hold foreigners as quite superfluous in the plan of creation. It 
may be for this reason that the Maragatos make no effort to 
prevent their mules from brushing wayfarers or horsemen over 
the declivities of the mountain paths, with the projecting bag- 
gage strapped on their backs. If they succeeded in crowding 
a man off in that manner, I doubt if they would stop to learn the 
consequences, but would comfort themselves with the thought 
that no foreigner had a right to interfere with the progress of 
a well-conditioned mule. 

The cocTie de colleras (coach of horse-collars) is passing 
away, but I saw and tried it several times in the rural districts 
and on the public roads, at a distance from the large cities. It 
is very like the English lumbering vehicle of Queen Anne's 
time, and the French equipage so shapelessly conspicuous in 
France during Louis XIV s reign, and which we still see in 
Yandermeulen's pictures representing the stately journeys of 
the pretentious monarch, and in the specimens preserved in the 
Hotel de Cluny. The coche is as tawdry, awkward, and un- 
comfortable as any hidalgo could desire, and so harmonious 
with the character and claims of many of the inflated old Dons 
that I do not wonder they have been loth to its surrender. It 
suggests the sixteenth or seventeenth century creeping through 
the nineteenth ; but is much less an anachronism in Spain than 
it would be anywhere else. 

The coche^ drawn by six horses or mules, is under the guid- 
ance and direction of the master and his assistant {mozo), both 
of whom are often fantastically attired in high-peaked hats 







JiOUNTAlN TRAVELS. 



AN ADMIBABLE SWEARER. 235 

worn over a briglit-colored handkerchief fastened after the 
manner of a turban, a gay embroidered jacket, plush breeches, 
a red or yellow sash, and shoes of undressed leather. In the 
sash is the nm^aja (knife) that all the peasants carry, for ordinary 
and extraordinary use, for pacific and hostile purposes. 

No Spaniard of the humbler class is without his knife. He 
is enamored of oflfensive weapons, seldom going anywhere 
without his gun, and never parting company with his blade. 
He is very dexterous with the nawaja. In his hands it is a 
formidable weapon. He wields it like a gladiator ; can hurl it 
with precision, and drive the blade into a post or a man at a 
distance generally reckoned safe. He is extremely ignorant 
of anatomy as a science ; but he understands it socially ; that 
is, he knows the exact spot at which to aim a mortal blow, and 
can reach the heart of his adversary as quickly and surely as 
any surgeon. 

The mozo^ often called el zagal — strong youth— is one of 
the most energetic of Iberian natures. He is a thorough fac- 
totum, and seems incapable of fatigue. One of his most im- 
portant duties is to pick up stones on the highway (all mules on 
the Peninsula are driven by stones), and discharge them at the 
beasts during the journey. "With this lapideous ammunition 
he is perpetually supplied, and yet he uses it as lavishly as raw 
recruits do their cartridges in their first engagement. He is 
probably the most accomplished swearer of the whole Jehu 
class, who are all proficient enough to have a cerulean influence 
on the atmosphere. The variety and extent of his oaths are 
astonishing; but he makes no account of his superiority in this 
regard, and is, I suspect, quite unconscious of his genius for 
the profane. There is no saint in the calendar and no evil in 
the Decalogue he does not couple. He anathematizes all cre- 
ated things, and if his invocations were answered he would 
bring down the universe in fragments upon his irreverent head. 
The ideal and exemplar of the mozo is the mayoral. To be 
regularly perched on the box and be entrusted with the exclu- 
sive guidance of six mules is his highest aspiration, and he be- 
lieves, with a sort of quadrupedal-and-vehiculary theology, 



236 THE EVENTFUL START. 

that the gates of Paradise are just broad enough to admit the 
cumbersome coach which is the object of his hourly worship. 

How well I remember the preparation and starting from a 
way-side posada of the first coche I rode in ! 

This starting is an event, and illustrative of the country. 
The attendant circumstances of getting ofiT in the morning 
were full of drollery. Though it seemed hardly fair for an 
American to laugh at the people that had so much to do with 
the discovery of his country, I could not help it. It may have 
been justifiable for their interference in our then rather con- 
fused international affairs. At any rate, I enjoyed the elabo- 
rate exordium of departure. 

The harnessing was primitive — the various pieces of rope 
and leather were laid on the ground like a net, the animals 
dragged into it, and finally fastened within the mysterious tan- 
gle. The master then collected the heterogeneous reins ; the 
onozo gathered a quantity of stones in his sash ; the servants 
and assistants of the venta, where I had lodged over night, 
appeared with sticks, and two or three old women, who are 
older and homelier in Spain than anywhere else, came out 
with their shrill voices, accompanied by a few lean dogs and 
thirsty loungers, resolved to assist on the occasion. The master 
shouted, swore, and shook the reins ; the mozo shouted louder, 
swore deeper, and hurled a volley of stones — he is an animated 
catapult at such times ; the attendants of the inn brandished 
their sticks, assaulted the beasts, and bellowed vociferously ; 
the female antiques screamed in altissimo ; while the loungers 
gesticulated and made grimaces that would have frightened 
any animal but a Spanish mule into mortal speed. This com- 
bined clamor and attack, this enforcement of material logic, 
finally resulted in the moving of the ponderous coach, which, 
as it groaned over the uneven highway, resembled a Dutch 
lugger on wheels. It did not seem that the crazy old vehicle 
could reach the end of the journey before its absolute dissolu- 
tion ; and I was as much surprised as any well-regulated mind 
allows itself to be in Spain, when I learned that, at the close 
of the day, it had accomplished twenty-five or thirty miles. 



CASTILIAN PEASANTS. 23^ 

The hours were not misspent. I found entertainment in 
listening to the calling out of the driver to his obdurate beasts. 
They had sonorous and many-syllabled names, like Balcatilla, 
Kobidetto, Arthemayor, and Chippimenta, and the last syllable 
was dwelt upon with a species of operatic quaver that would 
have elicited applause at the Theatre Eoyal of Madrid. 

The traest and purest representatives of Spain I found, of 
course, in New and Old Castile. Though the largest provinces 
in the country, embracing a third of its entirety, and contain- 
ing some of the most ancient and national cities, they have, 
with a good deal of fine scenery, much of the dreariest and 
sterilest in the kingdom. The mountainous regions include 
numerous landscapes which render the plains and table-lands 
{jyarameras and tierras di camjpo)^ without trees, hedges, 
inclosures, or landmarks, oppressively sad and monotonous. 
Those plams, like the Siberian steppes, give rest neither to the 
eye nor to the mind. Dryness is their pervading feature ; and 
during the summer the soil is parched and scorched by the sun. 
In the Castiles, every object, animate and inanimate, is literally 
burned umber. The land, the huts which make up the scat- 
tered hamlets, the peasants, the mules, the stews even, and the 
scant verdure, are all brown — a color I ought to approve of for 
personal reasons, but which in excess may be objectionable 
artistically. When I first travelled through those spacious 
provinces, the apparent desolation, the mud-hovels, or mud- 
huts, made of sun-dried bricks {adobes\ the hard-featured, un- 
washed peasantry toiling in the dusty fields, so oppressed me 
that I repeated Che seccatura ! again and again, as mile after 
mile of the tawny and barren soil stretched and winked under 
the blazing sun. The poverty and destitution reminded me of 
the worst parts of southern Ireland, though in Munster the 
land smiles with greenness, and the people are merry in the 
midst of misfortune. The Castilian peasants seem indolent as 
they lean upon their spades to watch the passing train, or rum- 
bling diligencia, or the perspiring pedestrian — always an object 
of wonder, for no Spaniard can comprehend how any one 
should walk if he can help it ; but they resume their labor 



238 THEIR SELF-SUFFICIENCY. 

when curiosity is satisfied, and work hard, and faithfully, and 
long. They are the least attractive to the stranger of all the 
provincialists in Spain ; but they have good and sterling quali- 
ties, and are probably superior to any of the rest in integrity 
and character. They improve upon acquaintance ; are patient, 
loyal, hospitable, and cheerful, with strong domestic tastes, and 
a keen sense of a grim kind of humor. 

It is a striking instance of compensation that the people 
who are compelled to live in such a dreary region, and doomed 
to endless toil, are entirely contented, and would not exchange 
their squalid huts for the costliest abodes of Granada and Se- 
ville. It is their comfort and their pride that they are Castili- 
ans, which means that they have few equals and no superiors. 
They know nothing of other countries than Spain, and have 
no desires beyond it. They are in the world, but not 
of it. Their sj)here is bounded by the few acres they 
cultivate, and their sympathies confined to the members 
of their family and their immediate neighbors. Their 
thoughts rise no higher than their awkward head-covering 
{montera), and their cloaks {cajpas) and overcoats {anguarinas) 
are the boundaries of their' wishes. They have no glass in the 
rude apertures called windows ; they live on chick peas (cicers) ; 
they bake in the summer and freeze in the winter ; they hardly 
have water enough to drink in the dry season, and would never 
think of wasting it in washing. But as they are natives of 
Castile, where, by the by, the soap of that name is never seen, 
they are not unreasonable enough to expect such inferior and 
vulgar blessings as ease and abundance. 

Seeing a stout and manly fellow laboring by the road-side 
one day, I lifted my hat, knowing the sensitive dignity of the 
people, and bade liim good-morning. He returned my saluta- 
tion, and stopped his work for politeness sake. 

" You have a hard hfe," I said. 

" "We keep ourselves busy ; but we live, and are satisfied." 

" And yet you have so little. You toil all day for coarse 
food and common lodging." 

" But we live in Castile." 



PERFECT CONTENTMENT. 239 

" Is that compensation for perpetual labor ? " 

" Oh, yes ; it is an honor to be bom here, and a glory to 
till this ancient soil." 

" Are you not discontented sometimes I " 

" Earely ; but when we are, we pray to the Virgin, and re- 
member it is vouchsafed to few to be Castilians." 

" Couldn't you do better elsewhere than here ? " 

"Where should we go; are we not already in Castile? 
There is no other place for a true Spaniard." 

" Wouldn't you like to have a fine olla, and rich wine, and 
long siestas every day ? " 

" Yes, if I could have them here." 

" You wouldn't want to change your residence, then, for a 
better condition ? " 

*'How could we be in better condition if we quitted Cas- 
tile?" 

I saw the lusty peasant could not imagine any good to exist 
out of his province, and begging him to accept a cigar, I rode 
on, and thanked Fortune that she had not cast my lot in that 
arid waste. 

There is a native dignity about the Castilians that is very 
remarkable. Albeit narrow, ignorant, and extremely poor, 
they beheve themselves favored of fate. Their manners are 
often better than those of the prosperous citizens of Madrid. 
They do not beg, nor borrow, nor make pretence, and so far 
they are gentlemen ; and being gentlemen, they are right in 
fancying themselves without superiors. 



CHAPTER XXX. 



THE CAPITAL. 




URGOS is one of the first cities of interest I 
visited in Spain. I enjoyed its dulness and 
decay after the newness and gayety of Paris, 
and admired the Gothic Cathedral and its spires of 
delicate open stone-work. They seemed so fragile 
that they might be blown away by the wind, which 
sweeps over the city as if it were bent on undoing 
the pious enterprise of Ferdinand el santo. Burgos teems 
with the dubious history of Eodrigo Ruy Diaz, the redoubtable 
Cid whose marvellous deeds, as recorded, the Spaniards have 
fed their national vanity upon for generations. I was shown 
the castle in which the doughty champion was married, and 
the City Hall {Casa del Ayuntiamento) where his bones are 
preserved with the headless skeleton of his faithful spouse, 
Ximena. A most energetic gentleman Eodrigo must have 
been, not only in life, but after it, as is proved by the story — 
solemnly believed there — that his corpse, in complete armor, 
mounted on Babieca, knocked down a Jew at Cardena, who 
had the temerity to pluck the hero by the beard. Mrs. Cid, 
no doubt a domestic and quiet-loving lady, fearful of such^osi^ 
mortem pugnacity, proceeded straightway to put her Kege lord 
under ground ; and so he was carried to Burgos, where he has, 
so far as known, behaved himself as a dead gentleman ought to. 
Yalladolid, the old capital, seemed a good place to visit, 
from the satisfaction I experienced in quitting it as soon as I 
had seen its unsightly and unfii^nished Cathedral, its dreary 
streets, and its ruined buildings. 



THE CITY OF MADRID, 241 

Once in Madrid, I asked, what almost everybody else asks : 
Why was the capital placed here ? Philip II. is responsible 
for the blunder ; and the only reason he ever gave was that 
Madrid is the geographical centre of Spain. I have always 
fancied he was actuated by the malignity that so permeated 
his nature. He must have been gratified by reflecting, how 
very uncomfortable his survivors would be in the sombre city, 
whose climate is described as nine months Greenlaud, and 
three months Tophet. 

Madrid is to me the least agreeable capital in Europe, and, 
with the exception of St. Petersburg, the dearest. It is the 
Washington of the Continent, which no one visits a second 
time, unless called there by business or compelled by destiny. 
The Spaniards are proud of Madrid because it is in Spain, and 
have told me, with great unction, that it is nearly two thou- 
sand years older than Rome. I am confident it was never 
heard of until the tenth century ; but still I should think it 
might have been built before any other city, as a warning not 
to have another like it. It was rejected in turn by Iberian, 
Roman, Goth, and Moor, and might have been to-day an in- 
significant town but for the gout and phlegm of Charles V., 
who was benefited by its rarefied air. I have always ascribed 
to the location of the capital at Madrid instead of Lisbon, the 
decline of the country, since it led to the revolt of Portugal, 
and many subsequent ills. Various were the efforts to remove 
the capital from the windy basin on the Manzanares ; but it 
could not be done, l^ations, like individuals, are unable to 
resist their fate. I should send my friends to Paris and my 
foes to Madrid, where nothing but a vigorous constitution pre- 
vents men from being blown into the nearest cemetery. The 
delicious but pernicious breeze of the Roman Campagna is 
nothing to the air of the ancient Majoritum, which, as is truly 
said, will not put out a candle, but will extinguish life. Many 
strangers, broiling in the sun of the Plaza, have been delighted 
with the coolness the Guadarama sends them, until they dis- 
covered the undertakers were watching them with professional 
interest. 

16 



242 LIVING IN SOCIAL SIEGE. 

The sole pleasure of going to Madrid is in the eonscions- 
ness that you are not compelled to stay in it. The heat is in- 
tense, and so dry and oppressive that one feels half suffocated. 
When there is a breeze, it is like that of Sahara, stifling and 
full of burning sand. Philip II. never displayed his malignity 
more than when he selected the capital. He no doubt enjoyed 
in secret the discomfort that would be entailed for generations 
on the unfortunates obliged to dwell in Madrid. 

The climate is truly, as has been said, three months Tophet, 
and nine months Greenland. 

In my opinion, there are but four months — April and May, 
October and I^ovember — favorable to a visit, thougli the car- 
nival time is the gayest, if not the most agreeable, season. 

The Madrilenians, like the Parisians, live in flats, and have 
staircases in common ; but the doors to their apartments are 
thick and strong, and provided with wickets, through which 
the servant or occupant surveys you before admission. I ob- 
tained an idea, from such precautions, that they consider them- 
selves in a state of social siege, which is not very far from the 
truth ; for every paterfamilias seems imbued with the idea that 
the external world is only waiting for an opportunity to carry 
off his wife and children, and that it behooves him, therefore, 
to be perpetually on his guard. Some of the interiors are des- 
olate enough ; and, coming out of one in the Calle de Toledo, 
with an American one day, after being fearfully bored, I sug- 
gested placing Dante's familiar Lasciate, etc., above the door. 

" That would be classical," said my companion ; " but it 
wouldn't be half so sensible as the vernacular over the wicket, 
' You're not good-looking, and you can't come in.' " 

I can't commend the hotels of the capital ; on the whole, I 
think the boarding-houses {casas de huesjpedes) are superior ; 
but it is a very fair place for thirsty souls, and none in the 
wide world is thirstier than your Castilian. The common re- 
mark that th&^ don't drink water on the Continent does not 
apply to the Spaniards, the dryness of the climate producing 
a like effect upon the inhabitants. I found one of the few 
good things in Madrid to be water, particularly that from the 



STREETS AND SQUARES. 243 

spring outside of the Puerta Segovia ; although the city is not 
lacking in other palatable liquids. The Guadarama snows 
supply the place of ice, and the half-and-half {mitj e 'mitj), 
made of barley and pounded chochos, the clarified verjuice 
{agraz) mixed with Manzanilla wine, and the beer combined 
with lemon juice {cerheza con liinon), I thought very re- 
freshing, and found my opinion constantly confirmed by the 
natives. In all the public squares, promenades, cafes, restau- 
rants, and theatres, drinks may be had at any moment. 
Wherever I walked or lounged, men and boys were going 
about with matches for lighting cigars and cigarettes, and with 
vessels containing water, lemonade, wine, and mixed potables. 
The Spaniards smoke so constantly that they keep thirsty 
from morning to night, and really pass their days in alterna- 
tions between fire and water, or something stronger. Emul- 
sions are great favorites with them in sickness as well as 
health. The leche de Almendras, a, sovereign remedy for va- 
rious ills, is almost exactly the afiuyoah] (papfiaxov ayaQov of 
AthauEeus, and is believed to be excellent from its age, which 
always begets reverence in Spain. 

Beyond certain buildings and certain quarters, I was hardly 
repaid as a sight-seer for my exertions in the capital. Few of 
the streets are handsome or impressive, and nearly all of them 
have the gloominess and unchangeable aspect which spring from 
the superabundant bile of the nation. The Puerta del Sol (it 
is called the Gate of the Sun because it was once the eastern 
gate, on which the rising sun shone) is now a public square in 
the middle of the city, w^hence the principal thoroughfares 
radiate. The Puerta — Murat perpetrated the butchery of 1808 
there — was formerly the resort of idlers, gossips, and news- 
mongers, and furnished opportunity for studying costumes. 
But modern progress has brought changes in dress and habits, 
and substituted for the place-hunter and adventurer the cice- 
rone and mendicant. The former is not so desirous to be 
employed as he is in other countries ; but the latter is among 
the most importunate of his tribe. 

I have often heard that Spanish beggars are so sensitive 



244 ' IRREPRESSIBLE BEGGARS, 

that if alms are once refused tliey will not ask again. I should 
have been glad to find them so. But I have had a very dif- 
ferent experience. Denial seems to sharpen their energy ; and 
the only phrase reputed to have an exorcising power, "Will 
you excuse me, my brother, for God's sake ? " {Perdone usted 
2)or Dios, HermMno f) has had no more effect upon them than 
would appeals to justice upon JS^ew York hackmen. I once 
thought that the cheerful habit our imported beggars have of 
showing their ulcers and their wounds was born of our inven- 
tive atmosphere. But I have found it is a fashion borrowed 
from the Peninsula, as all who visit Spain will find likewise. 
The Puerta, the plazas generally, the Prado, and the Calle de 
Alcala, swarm with the blind, the crippled, and the unfortu- 
nate of every sort. He or she who has a hideous scar or sore 
is sure to display it, knowing, if your heart does not respond 
to the appeal for charity, that your sensibility will so revolt as 
to seek protection through the purse. Of course nearly every 
mendicant is professional, and many are impostors, though 
poverty is so common and employment so scarce in Castile 
that three quarters of the Madrilenians might be pardoned for 
soliciting alms. Such ghastly spectacles of marring and maim- 
ing are unusual, even in Southern Europe ; albeit I suspect 
not a few of them are artificially produced. I have seen mira- 
cles ^vl'ought in the secular walks of life that are almost as 
remarkable as, though far less numerous than, those recorded 
by the Church. Sightless wretches who besieged me with 
prayers in the morning I have discovered scanning their reals 
with a critical eye in the afternoon ; and one-armed and legless 
fellows sunning themselves in the Prado, would, under my 
mortal vision, be restored to soundness in the Buen Retiro ' 
Gardens. 

The Plaza Mayor, where executions, autos-da-fe, and royal 
bull-fights once took place, is a large square, interesting now 
from what it has been. The buildings fronting the Plaza were 
leased formerly with the understanding that the balconies and 
front windows should be given up to the nobility when spec- 
tacles were presented. The quarter has been much injured by 



GRAND BOULEVARD AND ROYAL PALACE. 245 

fires, which the priests at one time attempted to extinguish by 
displaying " the Host," but with such slender efiect as to ex- 
cite the suspicion that fire is an heretical element. 

The Prado, the grand boulevard of the capital, two miles 
and a half long, is to Madrid what the Champs Elysees are to 
Paris. It was a meadow once, as the same indicates ; but it is 
now entirely innocent of grass or verdure of any kind, except 
that supplied by the long lines of trees. Under them, on the 
iron chairs — two quartos are charged for their use — sit the 
natives in the early morning. Spain rises betimes, and sup- 
plements sleep by the siesta, particularly in the afternoon and 
evening; smoking, reading newspapers, chatting, and flirt- 
ing in the grave manner that befits the Castilian. I can't 
admu'e the Prado ; it is a hot and dusty place when it is not 
chilly and uncomfortable ; but it is entertaining to open your 
mental note-book there, and jot down the peculiarities of sur- 
rounding men and women who carry on the soft war that has 
been waged so perpetually since the distinctions of physiology 
were first recognized. The eight fountains of the Prado are 
handsome, especially those of ]^eptune, Apollo, and Cybele ; 
and their falling waters are most grateful music when heard 
under the burning sun. 

The Buen Retiro and Botanical Gardens are neglected, 
and have fallen into decay ; but the Campos Eliseos are well 
laid out, and much frequented by both sexes fond of music, 
dancing, feasting, and fireworks. 

The reputation of the Royal Palace drew me to it. Like 
most things material and mental, it appears better at a distance 
than upon near approach. It is a vast building of white stone, 
one hundred feet high and four hundred and seventy feet each 
way, marred by its square port-holes and its ungraceful chim- 
ney-pots. The statues that adorn it are poorly executed, and 
their disproportion often offends. The dififerent saloons are 
richly frescoed, ornamented with marbles, heavily gilded ; but 
fine taste is not observed where money has been lavished most. 
The windows overlook the river Manzanares, sometimes so dry 
in summer that the bed is actuaEy sprinkled to lay the dust ; 



246 MAGDALEN ASYLUM. 

but the view over the slopes, though they are leveled and ter- 
raced, is without the beauty and variety the Moors would have 
given it, had they had an opportunity to introduce their at- 
tractive if fantastic arts. 

In the Royal Armory I saw as large a collection as there 
is in Europe — the armor and arms of all the actual and fabu- 
lous heroes and kings of Spain, including the Ferdinands, 
Philips, Charleses, the Cid, Pelayo, Bernardo del Cai*pio, and 
almost every warrior of fame in ancient or modern times. 
Hannibal's, Augustus's, and Julius Csesar's helmets are pre- 
served; but their authenticity I questioned, because they 
betray evidence of having been made centuries after those dis- 
turbers of the public peace had knocked at the door of Olym- 
pus and been admitted by Jupiter himself. 

A singular institution for Madrid is the Magdalen Asylum, 
where I spent several hours. No woman is admitted unless 
indubitable evidence of her incontinence be given ; and those 
admitted are never released, except to marry or become nmis. 
Connected with the asylum is a house of restraint, where 
women, wedded and single, are sent by^heir relatives and hus- 
bands who consider them too susceptible for security. There 
are no such houses as these outside of the Peninsula ; but per- 
sons unblest with faith think they might be extended to other 
countries with advantage. It may be an argument, however, 
against the benefit of the establishments, that women placed 
there are said to be so indignant at the suspicion attaching to 
them that, when released, they endeavor to earn the meed of 
their accusation. Husbands who have occasion to be absent 
from home for any length of time not infrequently put their 
wives under the protection of Lets Secojidas, and take them 
out when they return. This custom is obsolescent, like the 
employment of bolts, bars, and duennas. Even the Spaniards 
have begun to perceive that feminine honor must be guarded 
by moral, not material agencies, and that vulgar compulsion 
augments the tendency to sin by adding anger to temptation. 

The city is situated on what they call the river Manzanares, 
which occasionally indulges in the freak of containing water. 



APPEARANCE OF THE CITY. 247 

though it grows less whimsical in this regard every year. I 
don't know of what possible use it is, unless for a lavatory. 
It is frequently dammed up (and down, I might add), for such 
purpose, the natm*al volume of water not being sufficient even 
for the slight cleansing of linen that is here deemed desirable. 
I have often laughed at the A mo ; but the Manzanares is too 
pitiable to excite merriment. I wonder if it knows it is a 
river. It is certainly the smallest thing of the kind I have met. 

The old part of the town is dreary, ill-paved, not over-clean, 
with narrow and crooked streets ; but the new part is tolerably 
well built, has straight streets, paved with flint, and sidewalks, 
to which the other quarter is wholly a stranger. Madrid used 
to abound in convents that closely resembled prisons ; but the 
number is now comparatively small, so that the streets are not 
quite as gloomy as they were. There are one hundred and 
fifty churches ; but they look a good deal alike ; are usually 
dark, and seem as if the Duke of Alva, Torquemada, and other 
monsters, might be lurking in the shadows, deploring the spirit 
of progress and the spread of humanity. The churches have 
some good pictures, but they are either so faded, or in such 
unfavorable positions, that it is impossible to study them. 

The Museo has an excellent collection of pictures, two 
thousand in number, and among them some of Murillo and 
Velasquez's best. Murillo's famous " Immaculate Conception " 
— there is another in the Louvre at Paris — is in the Museo, and 
is really beautiful, though I cannot agree with those who declare 
it the greatest painting in the world. The face of the Virgin 
is far more madonna-like than is that of most of Eaifaelle's 
pictures. It is full of meaning, and will bear close study. The 
inner life of hope, resignation, struggle, suffering, love, adora- 
tion, is depicted in the upturned eyes .and entire air of the 
figure. There is significant expression in the hands, clasped 
over the bosom. They seem to be praying in gratitude for the 
Divine office that has been imposed upon the spirit they enfold. 
It is difficult for a Pagan to sympathize with the transports of 
the old theology ; but it is easy to see in the " Immaculate 
Conception " what Murillo wished to convey. 



248 THE MUSEO PICTUEES. 

Yelasqnez is seen to advantage there, particularly in some 
of his portraits. They are not so smooth, so finished, so spir- 
itual, as Vandyke's ; but they have more character, more va- 
riety, more originality. The Eaffaelles, Tintorettos, Titians, 
and Eubenses are quite inferior to those in Eome, Florence, 
Paris, or even Vienna. Herrera and Ribera have numerous 
paintings in the collection, but they are mostly of the saint and 
martyrdom sort, of which I am heartily sick. I am very sorry 
for the men who voluntarily starved themselves, and who were 
tortured for their faith, but I have no desire to have their ago- 
nies perpetually paraded before my eyes. They answer for 
breakfast, dinner, and supper, but for an occasional luncheon I 
should prefer a man who is not supplicating Heaven over 
skulls for the pardon of sins he never could have had stamina 
enough to commit. And I might be induced to regard favor- 
ably a woman broiling over a very slow fire for a celestial ban- 
quet. 

A miraculous image of the Virgin is to be seen in the 
Church of the Atocha. This image, which is everything but 
handsome or artistic, has accomplished the most extraordinary 
things, according to ecclesiastical accounts. Were I to enu- 
merate half of them, I fear I should be accused of levity, if 
not of attempting to burlesque what many regard as sacred. 
The Virgin has made heretics believe in the true religion, 
whatever that one may be ; has healed incurable diseases ; has 
rendered barren women the mothers of large families ; has built 
churches where there was no money ; has snatched souls from 
purgatory ; has struck blasphemous sinners dumb ; has revealed 
the sun at midnight ; in a word, has subverted the laws of Na- 
ture, and caused miracles to be commonplace. She or it — I 
can't tell which is the proper gender — has profited by her or 
its powers. Hundreds of valuable gifts have been presented 
to the image, and they are exhibited for a fee by the pious 
sacristan. 

Before I ever set foot in Spain I knew what a gloomy and 
unsatisfactory pile the Escorial is. But being there it became 
my duty as a traveller to visit the monastic palace, lest those 



THE ESCORIAL. 249 

who had been before me should say, when I returned : " IS'ot 
see the Escorial ? Alas, my friend, you have crossed the Pyr- 
enees in vain ! " 

Twenty miles from the capital by rail, the desolate charac- 
ter of the country through which I passed was a proper pre- 
lude for the inspection of the great granite tomb which a 
bigoted and cruel monarch reared to his own vanity and super- 
stition. When I saw the sombre edifice frowning in the dis- 
tance above the savage outline of the Guadarama, I thought — 
How fitting it is to be the home and grave of Philip II. ! 
The eighth wonder of the world, as it is called, seems like a 
huge family vault, and casts cold shadows even amidst the 
fierce sun-glare of Castile. Philip's ostensible object in its 
erection was, as we know, to execute the will of his father in 
constructing a royal burial-place, and also to fulfil a vow made 
to San Lorenzo, at St. Quentin, when the tide of battle had 
set against him. Lorenzo, according to theologic accounts, was 
used by Yalentianus like a mutton-chop, and to this circum- 
stance we owe the Escorial' s gridiron shape, in commemoration 
of the manner of the saintly martyrdom. My knowledge of 
history freshened as I wandered through the vast courts. I 
thought how the saturnine Philip went there after the battle of 
St. Quentin, for which, by the bye, he was indebted to Philibert 
of Savoy, and lived fourteen years, the cowl over his crown, 
dying on the very day the palace was finished, in such remorse 
and agony as no one who has read the pages of Siguenza 
can fail to remember. When I recall the love Philip had 
for the Escorial, I can understand how gloomy must have 
been his temperament, without looking into the library for the 
Titian portrait, with its stony eyes and deathlike coldness of 
face. He loved the sacerdotal structure because he built it, 
because its dismalness sympathized with his, because he could 
boast that from its solitude he could, with a bit of paper, rule the 
world. A rectangular parallelogram, seven hundred feet long, 
and five hundred and sixty-four feet broad, composed of gray 
granite, with blue slates and leaden roofs, it reminds me, in 
spite of its size, simplicity, and situation, of a modern-day 



250 A COLLECTION OF BELICS. 

barracks or manufactory of gigantic proportions. Two thou- 
sand seven hundred feet above the sea-level, it is part of the 
mountain on which it stands, and seems a bulwark against the 
storms and snows of the Sierras, a species of Hospice of St. 
Bernard on a colossal scale. The architecture is mixed, but 
the Doric style prevails. The various courts represent the in- 
terstices of the gridiron, the royal residence the handle, and 
the four towers at each corner the legs of the implement re- 
versed. The custodians are very voluble as to particulars. 
They told me it has eleven thousand windows — is the number 
so large because they are so small and out of proportion ? — 
covers four hundred thousand square feet, has twelve cloisters, 
sixteen courts, eighty staircases, sixty-five fountains, and three 
thousand five hundred feet of painting in fresco. Until within 
the last twenty-five years it was allowed to decay. Since then it 
has been partially repaired, though it bears numerous weather- 
beaten traces on every side. 

The palace and convent are now used for educational pur- 
poses, about three hundred students being instructed there for 
priestly and profane pursuits. The small chamber near the 
oratory is pointed out as the place where the crowned zealot 
breathed his last, and not far from the high altar is the museum 
of superstition in which he collected thousands of rehcs of 
saints and martyrs. Never was there a greater bigot than 
Philip. In what he conceived to be sacred anatomy he was 
without an equal, as may be seen from the relicario. The 
presentation of a so-called martyr's toe or a saint's tooth gave 
him more pleasure than a victory ; for he believed that either 
of those would go far toward the purchase of absolution for his 
blood-stained soul. After La Houssaye pillaged the Escorial 
he mixed up the 'relics in a manner that would have driven 
Philip to distraction if he had been alive ; for since then it 
has been quite impossible to determine to whom the confused 
fragments of anatomy belong. I remember leaning in the 
relicario against what I supposed to be a fragment of stone ; 
but discovered, from the horror I excited in the custodian, 
who crossed himself and uttered a confusion of prayers and 



THE ROYAL TOMB. 251 

invocations, that I had done something terrible. He explained 
to me that what I had taken for a stone was the thigh-bone of 
Saint Dominic or the thorax of Saint Ignatius — I am very 
deficient in knowledge of hagiographa — and that it was one 
of the most cherished rehcs of Philip, as he phrased it, of 
blessed memory. He appeared to be as much shocked as 
astounded when I failed to be impressed with the enormity of 
my offence, muttered something about the total depravity of 
heretics, and perhaps secretly sighed for the restoration of the 
Inquisition. 

Before I descended to the Pantheon — the royal tomb — I 
lighted a torch that was handed me, and with diflSculty moved 
over the slippery marble steps. The great family vault is 
under the high altar, so that the priest who elevates the Host 
in the Church may confer the benefit of the sacred act upon 
the dead below. Philip II., who really had taste in architec- 
ture, made the vault plain; but his son and grandson, on 
assuming the crown, rendered it tawdry with gilding and 
variegated marbles, and destroyed the impressive effect it 
originally had. The Pantheon is an octagon, about forty feet 
in diameter, and about the same height, of dark marble and 
gilt bronze. On the eight sides are twenty-six black marble 
sarcophagi, exactly alike, perhaps to show the equality of death 
and the peership of sovereigns. On the right are the monarchs 
of the past, and on the left are theii* consorts — etiquette sur- 
vives the grave in Spain — with the names of the deceased on 
each sarcophagus. Vacant niches yawn, expectant for the 
future kings and queens, whose line was seriously interrupted 
by the revolution. The urn Isabella would have occupied was 
shown to me. If she had sought to assert her right it would 
now be filled, I opine; and it is quite possible she would 
prefer quiet burial some years hence in Montmartre or Pere la 
Chaise to the earlier honors of sepulture there. !N^ow that 
Amadeus is King, and is likely to be assassinated some time, 
a niche should be prepared for him. He is young, and seems 
weU disposed ; but he was unwise when he accepted the empty 
crown of Spain. 



252 A GLOOMY PICTURE. 

At the first break (descanso) in the staircase I was conduct- 
ed into another burial-place, where more members of the royal 
family — Isabella of Valois, Don Juan of Aussria, and Don 
Carlos among them — sleep their dreamless sleep. Everybody 
who has read Schiller's tragedy sympathizes with the unfortu- 
nate son of Philip, and is inclined to believe the poetic is the 
historic account. But all the educated persons in Madrid with 
wliom I conversed on the subject declare that the prince's 
hatred of his father, who ordered his arrest in 1568, arose from 
fits of temper, caused by a fall from his horse six years before, 
which impaired both his mind and body. They referred me 
to Raumur for proof that he never loved his step-mother, and 
that both he and she died natural deaths. 

In the cloisters and court-yards — unpleasant, and the walls 
badly painted — I saw nothing to detain me, and I was glad to 
hurry to the handle of the gridiron {el mango de la parrilla), 
which is, as I have said, the royal residence. The rooms of 
state are poorly furnished, and so uninviting that I do not 
wonder the monarchs, after spending a few weeks there, hast- 
ened to the fair but artificial gardens of San Idlefonso. The 
kings, queens, and courtiers were always accessible to the 
monks, and practiced outward austerities, while their private 
lives were licentious and shameless. They were theologic 
epicures, sinning for the pleasure of confessing, and breaking 
the Commandments for the honor of absolution. The rooms 
Don Carlos occupied awoke new pity for him ; but the indig- 
nation I felt against his father was softened when I stood in 
the humble apartment where Philip was carried, in his mental 
and physical agony, that he might gaze upon the altar he had 
dishonored, and profane with bigot lips the crucifi;x Charles V. 
had kissed with expiring breath. 

With all the shadows and suggestions of the Eseorial 
around me, I thought, This is indeed like Spain. So proud in 
feeling, so poor in performance ; so fearful of innovations, i&o 
overborne by the ancient ; she stands among nations as this 
monkish palace, in the midst of sun-glare and desolation, a 
dark memory of the past and an awful warning for the future. 




CHAPTER XXXI. 

BULL-FIGHTS. 

T no means the least disadvantage of travel is, 
that you feel bound to see and do things as a 
traveller, which, as a rational animal, you are 
indifferent to, or, perhaps, naturally shrink 
ISTo one can have a greater temperamental 
repulsion than myself from scenes of pain or cruelty, 
unless I can relieve or repress them. And yet, from a 
purely intellectual curiosity, or from a philosophic spirit, 
I might witness or investigate what in itself excited 
abhorrence or disgust. 

As Spain is always associated with bull-fights, you feel that 
you have not performed your duty as a traveller, if you go 
away without seeing what they regard there as the great na- 
tional sport. The bull-fight I attended in September was the 
first that had been given for some time. I wish it might be the 
last. I obtained a ticket through the porter at the hotel, which 
is usually the best plan, as the speculators buy them in packets 
of forty or fifty, some days before the exhibition, and sell them 
at exorbitant rates. 

All the fights, I beheve, take place in the bull-ring, as it is 
called, situated in a convenient locality, and are, or rather have 
been, as popular with the higher as the lower classes. The 
ring is very much like our circuses, and is, no doubt, mod- 
elled after the ancient amphitheatres, the circle in the middle 
being filled with sawdust, and divided from the spectators by 
a barrier four or five feet high. The seats for the audience, or 
the vidience more properly, are one above the other, and are 



254 THE AUDIENCE. 

more or less comfortable, according to the price paid for admis- 
sion. Some parts of the amphitheatre are elaborately but 
tawdrily fitted up for the nobility and oflBcials — the members 
of the government having family boxes. The royal box, long 
graced by Isabella's portly person, it is hardly necessary to say, 
was without representation. The royal arms had been removed, 
and the place was vacant. 

I went early to the ring, for I wished to see the spectators 
assemble. They began to come nearly two hours before the 
time named for the commencement of the performance. These 
were the common people, who had not engaged seats, and were 
anxious to get as good places as possible. The lower classes 
are the most enthusiastic lovers of the sport, and, not having 
had an opportunity to witness it for some weeks, were unusu- 
ally eager. A number of the peasantry were present, and wore 
the picturesque costumes of the provinces. The men, for the 
most part, hard-featured and brutal-looking, impressed me as 
fellows that might be employed as assassins on moderate terms. 
The women were gayly tricked out with ribbons, but did not 
appear very neat or attractive, though they had good eyes and 
abundant hair, which was entirely their own. There was a phy- 
sical uneasiness in their motion, and a frequent application of 
their brown hands to different parts of their wardrobe, that in- 
dicated they were not at all exempt from the national insect. 
Their mode of allaying the corporeal visitation and of captur- 
ing the entomological offenders was energetic, and no doubt 
natural, but it was hardly graceful or poetic. I supposed at 
first they had come to see the fight, but I soon concluded their 
object was to catch fleas. The latter, however, I have since 
learned is only a preamble to the principal pleasure — the recre- 
ation of the country. When Spanish women have nothing 
else to do, they fall in love or hunt fleas. When they have 
any occupation, which is seldom, they do not allow their hearts 
or their insects to trouble them. 

As the hour for the sport drew nigh, the seats rapidly filled 
with well-dressed women and their cavaliers. The day was 
very warm but cloudy, and not so oppressive as Madrid usual]y 



THE COMBATANTS. 255 

is at that season of the year. Most of the better class of 
women wore dark colors, with long black veils on their heads, 
falling over their full and ample shoulders, but not at all con- 
cealing their generous busts. Some of them were so bounteous 
in display that they reminded me of the questionable portraits 
of Agnes Sorel, Gabrielle d'Estree, Pompadour, Du Barry, 
and many other historic demi-mundanes for sale at the shops 
of the Palais Eoyal in Paris. 

I was told the audience was not very fashionable, as many 
persons of wealth and distinction were still out of town. Judg- 
ing from the style of dress, it seemed to me one of the most 
fashionable I had seen in Europe. If it had been much more 
fashionable, I should have trembled for the consequences and 
the trade of mantua-makers. 

The ring will hold about ten thousand people, and when 
the signal was given for the fight to begin, all the seats were 
occupied. All the chatting, ogling, flea-catching, and flirtation 
ceased then ; every eye was strained, every head bent forward, 
as if the barbarous spectacle were wholly a novelty. The 
spectators seemed entirely Spanish, and I do not think it im- 
probable that I was the only person present who had never 
witnessed a similar exhibition. 

First, two men in velvet jackets and short breeches, armed 
with swords, appeared in the arena, followed by a couple of 
cavaliers on horseback. The two former made numerous grim- 
aces and absurd tableaux, and the latter rode around the ring 
several times. Then the footmen opened a gate to the entrance 
for the bulls. If I had not known something of the manner of 
conducting the national sport, I should have expected to see 
an infuriated bull rush out pawing and bellowing, and bent on 
goring to death the first living thing it could reach. A minute 
elapsed, and no bull made its appearance. Then one of the 
footmen strode to the entrance, waved a red flag he had in his 
hand, and uttered a sharp cry, half threat and half curse. No 
buU. Then he thrust in a lance, piercing the animal's hide, I 
suppose, though my position was such that I conld not see into 
the gateway. I heard a low mutter, but still there was no bull 



256 AN AMIABLE BEAST. 

visible. The audience was impatient, and expressed its dis- 
approbation of the delay in hisses and applause. In another 
minute the bull appeared, having, I judge, been forced out 
from behind. 

The animal, though he was black, sinewy, and well-formed, 
was not a whit savage. On the contrary, he was in a most 
amiable mood, considering the provocation he had received. 
He seemed tired and sleepy, and would have lain down if he 
had been permitted to do so. The footmen immediately began 
to worry him. They waved their flags ; they struck him with 
tlieii- swords ; they yelled at him. He looked drowsily at them, 
and forgave their insults. Then they got some darts with fire- 
crackers attached, and, lighting them, hurled them into the 
poor beast's side. The bull moaned ; was excessively fright- 
ened, and strove to get out ; but could not. His terror sup- 
pressed all possibility of rage, and, after torturing him for four 
or five minutes longer, and, the audience beginning to cry for 
another animal, the men in the arena let the beast out. He 
was evidently delighted to escape, and did not heed the jeers 
which followed his inglorious exit. 

A second bull was admitted. He had no more inclination 
to fighting than his predecessor. Indeed, the instincts of the 
animals, tell them they have no chance for their lives; that 
they are merely to be butchered after being overborne by supe- 
rior strength. The new beast was, however, of higher mettle. 
His eye flashed when the flag fluttered before it, and when the 
darts were thrust into him, and the crackers exploded, he 
pawed the ground and bellowed with wrath. He seemed too 
much enraged at first to determine his course, but in a few 
seconds he dashed at one of the footmen, and would have torn 
hhn open with his horns if the fellow had not slipped aside. 
The bull was again upon him. He could not get out of the 
way, so he ran swiftly and leaped over the barrier in the most 
agile manner. 

The spectators were delighted. They roared with enthu- 
siasm, for they now had what they had been waiting for. My 
sympathies were, I confess, entirely with the bull. He was 



SANGUINARY SPECTACLE. 257 

not half as mucli of a brute as were his persecutors. I did not 
want to see any one hurt ; but if the poor beast could have 
escaped by goring a man or two I should have been quite will- 
ing. The bull was acting on the defensive: the men were 
voluntarily his tormentors. 

As the animal ran after Pedro (I will call him such for dis- 
tinction), his companion, Alfonso, thrust a sword into the ani- 
mal's thigh, and one of the horsemen, Carlos, rode up, and 
hurled a lance into his neck. 

The horses used in the arena are not spirited nor blooded. 
They are generally common beasts that are designed to be 
slaughtered, and consequently economy prompts the employ- 
ment of an inferior breed. 

The bull, twice wounded and bleeding freely, turned upon 
Carlos, who might easily have avoided the onset. But it was 
part of the performance to have the wretched steed killed. As 
the bull darted forward, with head bent, Carlos made his horse 
rear, giving a fair mark to the advancing horns. They entered 
the heart of the poor animal. The horse screamed like a hu- 
man being ; the entrails — sickening sight ! — gushed out ; the 
rider leaped to the ground as the horse fell and died in the 
ring. 

In another moment the second footman, Garcia, came sud- 
denly upon the bull, growing too fierce for convenience or 
comfort, and struck his hind leg with a sword so heavily jthat 
fracture must have followed. The beast's eyes were red with 
blood and rage. He was resolved to fight to the last. He 
dashed toward Garcia, but was too lame for swift motion. 
Just then he received another terrible wound from a lance in 
the rear, which checked his course. 

The poor beast paused for some seconds; looked wildly, 
yet pitiably, about, as if he were appealing to the spectators 
for fair play. He had been bleeding profusely, and was grow- 
ing weaker every minute. Another blow of the sword from 
behind brought him to his knees, and before he could rise, a 
fifth man entered the arena, with a long, sharp sword, and,, 
stealing up behind the bull, thrust the blade into his head be- 
17 



258 SICKENING SIGHT, 

tween tlie horns. The beast's eyes glazed, a convulsive quiver 
ran through his panting frame, and, with a low moan, he ex- 
pired, a few feet from where lay the disembowelled horse. 

Again applause of hands and voice arose. I looked through 
my lorgnette to see if I could not discover horror or disgust 
depicted in some face — at least a woman's. I^othing of the 
kind was visible. Everybody seemed flushed with delight, as 
refined persons are when the curtain has fallen upon the brilliant 
finale of a favorite opera. 

I wanted to get out ; but the crowd was so great where I 
sat, that I could not succeed. While I was waiting my oppor- 
tunity, a third bull was introduced. The matadores had no 
trouble with him. They thrust darts into his side ; hacked 
him ; hurled lances into him right and left ; pressed him so 
closely that he had no prospect for self-defence. He bellowed 
somewhat, and pawed the sawdust ; but he had intelligence 
enough to know he was doomed, and that he might as well die 
with as little trouble as possible. He received at least fifty 
wounds in fifteen minutes. He was obliged to gore one of the 
horses, for the horse was literally thrown upon his horns ; but 
he looked relieved when the chief butcher appeared and pierced 
his brain with the long sword. 

The brutal scene was not yet ended, but I resolved to stay 
no longer. I felt demoralized, self-disgusted, sick at heart. I 
squeezed my way out, and, as I moved along, I thought I heard 
what was not intended for my ear : " That is an American. 
He is sick ; he is sentimental. His nation is squeamish." 

As I walked slowly through the throng, I looked into the 
faces of several women I had thought handsome an hour be- 
fore. Their eyes were dark ; their hair was luxuriant ; their 
lips were red; their forms were graceful — or they had ap- 
peared so before the contest in the arena. 

Now they had no element of feminineness or lovehness. 
They seemed hard, heartless savages. Their eyes had murder 
in them. On their red lips stood deadly poison. What woman 
can be womanly who can witness cruelty unmoved ? 




CHAPTER XXXII. 

ANDALUBIA. 

EYILLE and the region round about certainly 
seem like Spain; not exactly the Spain we 
associate with the wonderful performances of 
the Cid, the dramas of Calderon, or the his- 
tory of the struggle with the Moors, but the 
real Spain, the country of to-day, the land where 
tradition and romance still linger, like a fantastic 
cloud which we see rapidly changing and slipping 
away. 

'No one gets a correct idea of Spain without going into 
Andalusia. Those who ^'isit only Madrid, and return north, 
fail of the first purpose of travel — acquaintance with the char- 
acteristic features of foreign countries. 

Toledo first impresses you as belonging to the past, with 
which we can not avoid associating this twilight land of poetry 
and superstition. It once had two hundred thousand people, 
and now it contains little over fifteen thousand. Picturesque- 
ly situated on a hill, at whose base the Tagus flows, its nar- 
row streets, its vast Alcazar, grand Cathedral and quaint old 
buildings, speak to you with the voice of history. When I 
saw aged persons asleep in the shade of a mouldy wall, they 
looked so wrinkled and mummy-like, that I fancied they 
might have been inhabitants of Toledo in its palmy days. 

As you move southward you imagine you are in a tropical 
climate, so rich and abundant is the vegetation on every hand. 
The vine covers whole villages and hillsides ; the olive, fig, 
lime, almond, orange, and lemon trees grow in profusion, 



260 TRUE POETRY AND ROMANCE. 

while the burning sun, with a deeply yellow glare, ripens all 
nature into being. The sun-efFects are very fine artistically, 
particularly when they are visible from the snow-crowned 
Sierra Guadarrama, Morena and Nevada mountains ; but they 
are not pleasant to me personally. I admire as an artist ; I 
suffer as a man. The atmosphere is very dry there, and walk- 
ing and driving about as professional sight-seers are in duty 
bound, the heat in September and October is extremely op- 
pressive. I have grown accustomed to all climates ; but when 
I am making meteorological arrangements for my private 
gratification, I shall not select the temperature of Andalusia in 
those months. 

Southern Spain is very much what Italy was five-and- 
twenty years ago, before the railways spoiled it, as the roman- 
ticists say. 

What a shallow thing it is, by the bye, to talk about poetry 
and romance as belonging exclusively to the past, and prate 
about the practicahty and prose of the present ! We no longer 
write or read such supernaturally tedious novels as Madame 
de Scuderi used to be guilty of. We no longer break lances 
in defense of women who were without modesty and without 
brains. We no longer let single combats decide great issues 
in the front of opposing armies. We no longer babble fustian 
concerning the envy of the stars at the beauty of our mistress' 
eyes. We no longer talk of knightly chivalry to-day, and to- 
morrow sack cities, murder children, violate women, and then 
with pompous mockery thank God in cathedrals for our 
shameful victory. 

We do better than all that. We send food to the starving. 
We succor the distressed. We build hospitals and school- 
houses, and orphan asylums. We give all men — I speak for 
America — the right to freedom and an equal chance with our- 
selves. We keep faith with men and reverence women, and 
have more genuine chivalry than any age has seen. Our 
material progress has done what neither morality nor phi- 
losophy could do. There is more romance and poetry in the 
telegraph and railway than in all the books issued since the 



PREVALENT SUPERSTITIONS. 261 

Bible of Faust. There is more knighthood in the upright 
youth who labors for the support of his aged parents, than in 
all the armored coxcombs that ever rode in the tournament to 
folly and to death. 

So much for episode. To return. The primitive customs, 
the ancient mode of doing things, the absence of modern in- 
novation are there as they were in Italy a quarter of a century 
since. I have no special admiration for what existed before I 
was bom (my modesty renders me unable to see the necessity 
of creation before that time), but the difference between Spain 
and other continental countries is fresh and agreeable. There 
is very little in France or Italy that is not produced elsewhere. 
Here you find much that has not changed for two hundred 
years. The railway and telegraph will soon produce homo- 
geneity, but they have not as yet. 

There is a certain unfitness in those representatives of 
progress in this ancient kingdom. The electricity bears a 
message over the roof of a house whose inmates live precisely 
as their ancestors did in the days of Philip II. The locomo- 
tive dashes by a plantation that is tilled and managed as it was 
when our great-grandmothers were unborn. 

In the villages and agricultural districts, the common 
people regard the trains and electric wires with a wonder and 
an awe that approaches superstition. They often watch the 
cars, when they steam by, with distended eyes and open 
mouth ; and old women hold their children, though they are 
far from the track, or stand before them protectingly, as if the 
locomotive were a demon that might seize and carry them 
away. They not infrequently imagine that sickness in the 
family, failure of the vine or ohve, the death of cattle, and 
other accidents, are caused by the modern innovations. They 
would destroy the wires and tracks but for fear. They are 
fortunately superstitious as to both. They believe the light- 
ning would strike them, and the steam would scald them, 
if they interfered with those powerful agencies, thus showing 
how superstition and science meet. 

The capital of the province of Seville, pleasantly situated 



262 EOYAL PALACE. 

on the banks of -the Gaudalqnivn-, contains evidences of past 
wealth and greatness that bear no proportion to its present 
commerce and population — very little over 150,000. The 
Cathedral is one of the finest in Europe, and is noted, with 
various other churches, for being the largest in the world, after 
St. Peter's ; St. Paul's, both at Rome and London, with the 
Milan, Cologne and Florence Cathedrals, claiming the same 
honor. 

I like the architecture for its peculiarity. It is partly 
Koman and partly Gothic ; has a Moorish spire 360 feet high, 
consisting of three towers of unique workmanship, with gal- 
leries and balconies. The church has an organ of 5,500 pipes, 
but its tone is much inferior to that of any one of the organs 
at Haarlem, Freiburg or Bern. 

There are some Murillos on the walls, no doubt excellent, 
but they cannot be seen to advantage for want of light. They 
ought to be called the greatest paintings extant, from the fact 
that no one can determine their real merit. 

A good view can be had of the surrounding country from 
the spire, surmounted by a homely weathercock (giralda). I 
ascended it, of course, and as I bumped my head very severely, 
I advise others to do likewise. I was unable to keep a whole 
scalp in Europe, in consequence of my fondness for mounting 
monuments, steeples, and heights of every description. 

The Alcazar, or Royal Palace, is a colossal edifice, built, it 
is said, of stones brought from the ancient temple of Hercules. 
I presume the foundation may be so composed, but that the 
entire palace is, is a statement I could not swallow, such a hot 
day as that on which I heard it, without ice, which was not to 
be had in the whole city. The Alcazar is a mile in extent, 
and flanked by large square towers. Some parts of it are 
beautiful; others commonplace and tawdry, revealing fine 
taste and barbaric love of show. 

The Archives of the Indies, in the Casa Lonja, is very rich 
in original documents. In addition to a vast number relating 
to the voyage of Cortez, Pizarro, and Magellan, it has several 
thousand manuscripts on the subject of the discovery of Amer- 



HOLY WEEK, 263 

ica. I should have liked to read them; but, as I did not 
expect to stay five hundred years in the country, I did not 
undertake it. 

The principal branch of industry here is the Government 
tobacco factory, an immense building, erected a century since, 
at a cost of $2,500,000, and giving employment to over live 
thousand women, the worst-looking, on the whole, whom I 
have seen in Spain. Working in tobacco is extremely unwhole- 
some, and few of the employes either seem, or are, healthy. 
One would imagine they would be so nauseated with their 
business, that they would hate the odor of tobacco. But it is 
not so, I understand. Some of the women, particularly the 
old ones, smoke, snuff, and chew. I met a few who, I think, 
must have been of this elegant and fragrant class. They were 
really hideous in person and repulsive in habit. I could not 
refrain from contrasting them with the fascinating senoritas we 
hear of, but fail to see. 

Seville has a large University, two or three founderies, 
several galleries and handsome palaces (the modem one of the 
Duke de Montpensier is very fine), a handsome exchange, and 
many interesting edifices ; but the place is dull always, and 
would be tedious after a week's stay. 

The best time to go there is during Holy "Week (Santa 
Semana), which is in the middle of April. The festival is 
observed by religious processions, displays of the Yirgin in all 
kinds of tawdry costumes, sacred plays, in which Christ, the 
Almighty, the Apostles, and as many saints as can be accom- 
modated on any stage, are represented with the most pious 
fervor. The annual fair is held at the same time, and the 
sacred entertainment concludes with several first-class bull- 
fights. 

The taurine contests there are the most exciting in Spain, 
for the reason that the animals are fiercer in that region than 
they are anywhere else. They are carefully bred, and have 
extraordinary strength and endurance. They occasionally kill 
a matadore or two in the arena — a moral spectacle that touches 
the Spaniards to the soul. 



264 A PICTURE FROM NATURE. / 

Having witnessed, by mere force of will, the bull-fight in 
Madrid, I was so repelled by it that I doubt if I shall ever 
attend another. I think I may be induced to, if I feel sure 
the poor tormented beast will interfere for all time with the 
digestion of his torturers by compelling them to take a horn. 

What an analogy there is in Nature ! Spanish bulls kill 
men in exactly the same manner that American bar-keepers do. 

This city once had a very large commerce with South 
America, being the entrepot of that trade ; but it is all over 
now ; and beyond the export of oranges, Seville does next to 
nothing. There is considerable wealth here, but it is in the 
hands of noblemen or retired merchants. 

Across the river is the suburb of Triana, where stood that 
beautiful and benevolent institution known as the Inquisition. 
It was long ago torn down ; but the spot is still pointed out, 
and many strangers visit it. When I looked at it, and remem- 
bered the horrors of the time, I wondered any one can be so 
stupid as not to see that the world is constantly growing better. 

At Seville I saw a picture out of the window of my hotel, 
that Murillo would have been pleased to paint. On the op- 
posite side of the street was an old beggar woman (she looked 
as old as if she had been reproduced from Balthazar Doner's 
canvas) who had sat down with her own or some other per- 
son's child in the shade cast by the wall. She had fallen 
asleep, the baby had crawled upon her head and was playing 
with the ragged ends of her white hair. While so engaged a 
large dog made the infant a visit, Hcked the little hand, and 
lay down coaxingly at the beggar's side. The infant accepted 
the invitation ; left the hair of the woman and seized the hair 
of the good-natured brute. The tiny thing was delighted ; 
chirped and laughed, still sitting on the woman's head. The 
dog was delighted too. He wagged his tail, and barked in a 
low, loving way. StiU the old beggar slept; still the rain 
poured down, but spared the group under the wall. Aged 
poverty, careless childhood, affectionate instinct of man and 
brute, the three met there, and the blue of heaven bent beauti- 
fully over all. 




CHAPTER XXXIII. 

GEANADA. 

1 city in Europe has more romantic and literary 
associations than Granada, the old Moorish 
capital, and the seat of ancient Saracenic 
splendors. It is admirably situated, and has 
beautiful surroundings, being thirty-five hundred feet 
higher than Malaga, with the snow-capped Sierra 
Nevada about twenty miles distant. Yegetation is 
very luxuriant thereabout, and the broad plantations 
and handsome gardens make the scenery around 
Granada a panorama of beauty and an ocular delight. 

One can appreciate an almost tropical region much better 
when the sun does not constantly shoot its fierce arrows into 
boiling blood. In N'ovember the temperature is pleasant, and 
a walk or drive in the vicinity in the morning or evening is 
extremely enjoyable. The moonlight evenings are delicious, 
and would be dangerous, no doubt, to sentimental and sus- 
ceptible young couples, if they were left alone together. Im- 
agine them walking arm in arm under the shadows cast by the 
Alhambra, quoting verses and repeating all the romantic stories 
that have been told of the wars of the Spaniards and the 
Moors. Even if arithmetic and logic declared they ought not 
to unite their destinies, I fancy all the figures of one and rea- 
son of the other would be of little avail. They would do as 
thousands have done before them, and repent, if at all, too 
late. However much they repented, place them in the same 
circumstances, and the folly, or fault, would be recommitted. 
I have wondered sometimes whether that which we under- 



266 ROMANTIC IMPRUDENCE. 

stand as repentance is not merely an inverted regret at our 
inability to do over again what once gave us so much pleasure. 
I hope this is not true. If it were, it would interfere with our 
ethical system, and ethics, whatever else happens, should always 
be preserved. 

"What I have said about the effect of Southern Spain and 
moonlight was prompted by a story told me in Granada. One 
summer an American of wealth — he was from the West, I believe 
— went to Spain with his only daughter, a pretty and highly ro- 
mantic, b'lit not very intellectual or sensible, girl. The old gen- 
tleman was a widower, and so dotingly fond of his child that he 
had thoroughly spoiled her. In Paris he engaged a courier to 
travel with them, who was a moderately good-looking, shrewd, 
flippant fellow. He went with them through Switzerland, 
Germany, and Northern Italy, and paid very marked attention 
to the young lady. He was with her so much, that if her father 
had been a man of observation, or inclined to interfere in any 
way with his daughter's whims, he would have seen the inti- 
macy was not hkely to come to good. The courier told Hattie 
that he was of noble family ; but that his great-grandfather 
had been deprived of his title and estates, and since then his 
immediate ancestors had been compelled to earn their own 
livelihood. His father had been wealthy ; he himself had a 
fortune ; he was in a responsible position under the Imperial 
Government ; he was not a courier really ; he had seen her in 
the court-yard of the Grand Hotel, and been impressed with 
her beauty ; in a word, fell in love with her. He knew the 
best way to be near her was to pretend to be a courier ; so, call- 
ing on her father, he made an engagement, paterfamilias being 
favorably impressed with the fellow because he spoke tolerable 
English. The courier told Hattie that he was a great favorite 
with women ; that dozens of them, including marchionesses, 
countesses, and duchesses had become desperately enamored 
of him, and he even intimated that the Empress Eugenie had 
shown a weakness for him, which he, as a friend of Louis Na- 
poleon, had scorned to take advantage of. He declared that 
he had had pity for the poor creatures who had adored him ; 



AX AWKWARD DILEMMA. 267 

for he could not help it. Bnt he never had been attached to 
any one of Hattie's sex until he saw and worshipped her. 

Any man of experience can understand what an effect this 
highly improbable but artful story would have upon a girl like 
Hattie. Here was a man of noble blood, who' had been mifor- 
tunate in losing his rank and estates ; who had consented to 
accept a menial position for her sake ; who had been adored 
by duchesses — even by the Empress. How could she fail to 
love him? If she did not give him her heart, would it not 
show she lacked that high breeding and lofty gentility sup- 
posed to belong to ladies of quality ? 

Of course, Hattie responded to the courier's passion — re- 
sponded so ardently that after the trio had gone into Spain, 
had reached Granada, and were at the Fonda de Alameda, 
even the old gentleman discovered the fact beyond any doubt. 
Paterfamilias was in a quandary. He knew it would do no 
good to cut the fellow's throat ; they were in a strange coun- 
try ; probably no one would ever know anything about the 
imprudent affair; and, moreover, the courier expressed his 
anxiety to make the girl his wife, putting it on the ground of 
love and honor, when he was really in search of her money. 

Paterfamilias, wonderfully perplexed, told his employe to 
call again in the morning. He afterward questioned his daugh- 
ter, who informed papa what a magnificent fellow " Alphonse " 
was ; what his real position was ; and how good and chivalrous 
he had been to her. Papa was unable to perceive the chivalry, 
and asked his daughter how she happened to so far forget her- 
self as to love such a fellow. She replied that she had always 
been discreet imtil one evening when Alphonse and she were 
walking about the Alhambra. He was telling her how much 
he loved her; the old ruin looked so beautiful; the moon 
shone so brightly ; Alphonse was so tender. " Oh, dear papa, 
if it had not been for the Alhambra, I am sure I should never 
have admitted my attachment." 

The old gentleman — as I heard the tale, which seemed to 
have become known, in some mysterious manner, to everybody 
in the hotel — deemed it best to have his daughter married to 



268 THE ALHAMBRA. 

the courier, and to give him a certain sum of money for his 
consent to a divorce. When Ilattie learned of Alphonse's 
willingness to give her up for ten thousand francs ; also that 
his entirb story was false ; that he was^ nothing but a common 
courier — she was not apprised of this until after the ceremony 
— she, very naturally, despised him. 

The marriage took place in her own room, a priest being 
paid liberally for his trouble, and two days after she returned 
north with her father, Alphonse having preceded them, de- 
lighted at his good fortune, chuckling over the pleasant manner 
in which he had made what to a common Frenchman is quite 
a large sum. 

Alphonse, I understand, is now the proprietor of a cafe in 
the Rue de Seine, in the Quartier Latin. 

The Alhambra is the object that takes most travellers to Gra- 
nada. It stands on an eminence between the Genii and Darro 
rivers; shaped like a grand piano, reached through a shady 
grove of elms, and a favorite resort of nightingales. The en- 
trance is an oblong court, a colonnade at each end, and a 
basin of water in the middle, bordered with flowers. Next 
is the Court of Lions, so called because the fountain in the 
middle is supported by sculptured lions, and in it is a colon- 
nade of fully one hundred and fifty beautiful marble columns. 
Then comes a great hall sixty feet high — the spacious doors 
and windows are in deep recesses — between which and the 
oblong court is a beautiful gallery used formerly for conversa- 
tion and promenading. There is a large bedchamber with two 
alcoves and many columns — also containing a fountain, and 
paved with marble in checkers. The ceilings are richly orna- 
mented and in imitation of stalactites, while the friezes are 
arabesque, at once graceful and striking, and in accordance, it 
is said, with the inscriptions upon different apartments of the 
palace. My knowledge of Arabic is too imperfect to translate 
the inscriptions, which are declared to be very apt and forcible. 
One, for instance, over the entrance of the Hall of Judgment 
is thus rendered : " Have no fear. Here justice reigns. En- 
ter, and you shall find it." If that was not mere rhetoric, as 



ALHAMBRA HILL. 269 

it would be in our days, I am inclined to believe we have not 
advanced much in respect to equity since the Alhambra was 
the home of the ancient Moorish kings. In New York, over 
ahnost any of the courts might be written, — 

" Enter, and fear not, provided you have money. 

" You shall have justice, if your purse be long enough. 

" If you have not wealth, contaminate not the sacredness 
of this place with your wretched poverty and your penniless 
presence." 

If the language were Arabic it might sound better, because 
unintelligible. But in whatever tongue, the judges and magis- 
trates of Manhattan would, through their decision, interpret it, 
at least in spirit and effect, as I have rendered it. 

The palatial fortress is on the Alhambra Hill, which is 
2,690 feet long by Y30 feet in its widest part. The walls en- 
circling it are of an average height of thirty feet, and six feet 
in thickness. The principal building of the Alhambra was 
begun by Ibn-1-ahmar, in 1248, and finished by his grandson, 
Mohammed III., in 1314. 

The greatest decorator of the Alhambra was Yusuf I., 
whose wealth was so enormous that he was thought to have 
the philosopher's stone. He spent immense sums upon it, and 
in his day it must have been a marvel of splendor. From the 
reign of Ferdinand and Isabella the deforming of the Alham- 
bra may be dated. The monks then set about whitewashing 
and removing the Moslem symbols, which, to their narrow 
minds, were evidences of an unholy faith. Charles Y. com- 
pleted the spoiling process by modernizing and rebuilding 
parts of the grand old palace. The Alhambra has so suffered 
from neglect and marring, that it is wonderful enough of 
it remains to recall its past magnificence. In 1812 the French, 
in evacuating it, intended to destroy all its towers, but fortu- 
nately succeeded in blowing up only eight, some of them 
models of Moorish art. The Alhambra, which means in Ara- 
bic " The Ked House," has had all kinds of fortune, having 
been used for purposes as ignoble as noble. War, earthquakes, 
and time have shattered it. It has been the abode of donkeys 



2V0 HALL OF THE AMBASSADORS. 

and sheep, no less tlian of princes and warriors, of vandals 
and galley-slaves. Its long lines of walls and towers crown 
the hill, following all the curves and dips of the soil, as if it 
had grown there, and producing the finest artistic eflPect. It 
seems the work of J^ature, and yet it owes its origin to the 
ingenuity and taste of the Moors, who out of the barren rock 
fashioned the highest forms of beauty. 

The Sala de Comares is particularly attractive, the ceiling 
being of cedar, inlaid with ivory, silver, and mother-of-pearl, 
and the walls stuccoed and ornamented with elegant and elabo- 
rate arabesques. The brilliancy of the color still remains, as 
well as the delicacy of the filagree, though more than five 
centuries have passed since they were wrought. 

The Hall of the Ambassadors is as charming as unique, 
and so indeed is everything connected with the Alhambra, 
which must be visited often before it can be appreciated. It 
has so many towers, baths, courts, gardens, halls, and apart- 
ments, that their number and variety are bewildering, and can 
hardly be apprehended until they have been examined and 
admired again and again. 

The lower apartments of the Alhambra were used during 
the summer, and the upper ones, to which a handsome stair- 
case leads, during the winter. There are no fountains above, 
and the style of painting and ornamentation generally is very 
different from that below. The decorations are warmer and 
heavier, at least they seem so to me, and the temperature of 
the rooms appears as if it might be ten or twelve degrees 
higher. Unquestionably the Moors understood genuine com- 
fort and luxury as even this generation does not. They were 
the first people who emerged from the positive barbarism of 
dress and furniture (as we now style it) that had preceded them. 
They were the first to wear linen next to the skin — what a 
moral as well as material advance was that ! — and to revive the 
habit of personal neatness, which the Greeks and Romans had 
followed, to such an extent that physical sweetness became a 
part of their religion. The Mohammedans ought to have full 
credit for the practical teaching of what John Wesley an- 



PLACES OF INTEREST. 271 

nounced. Cleanliness with them was more than next to god- 
liness : it was a part of it. 

I have never visited any place more prolific of suggestions 
than the Alhambra. To me it is more so than the Coliseum, 
the Pantheon, or the Roman Forum ; and yet I am in fuller 
sympathy with classic Paganism than sensuous Orientalisrh. 
I could lounge about the old palace for weeks and months 
without weariness ; for it has the peculiarity of seeming new 
and strange every time I enter it. 

The Alhambra is to me a better key to the ancient Moors, 
their character and culture, than any history I have read. This 
splendid ruin, which is being restored now, I am sorry to say, 
will bear any amount of study from the philosopher, poet, and 
antiquary. Its marbles are so fine and varied, its carvings and 
paintings so unique, its form and arrangement so suggestive — 
indeed it is so unlike anything else in Europe — ^that its beauty 
and freshness, for it is fresh despite its age, enter into one's 
recollections, and keep warm and sweet his memories of foreign 
lands. 

Sitting or lying beneath the venerable elms before the 
Alhambra, under the soft moonlight, listening to the nightin- 
gales, is the poetry of wandering and the distillation of senti- 
ment. 

There are many interesting things in Granada — the Cathe- 
dral, and the tombs of Ferdinand and Isabella, of Philip and 
Joana in the adjoining Capilla, the sumptuous palace of Capilla 
Mayor, the Cartuja Convent, with its fine marbles and extra- 
ordinary paintings ; the Prado, with its fountains and grand 
old trees. 

November is a charming month there, and if the hotels 
were only good, I am sure many strangers would flock to the 
ancient city. A railway is in process of construction between 
there and Malaga and Cordova. I hope it will be completed 
when I go again, for a Spanish diligence is even more tedious 
than a Spanish railway. We were fully thirteen hours making 
the thirty miles from Malaga to Granada. I rode with the 
driver; aired my scanty Castilian, and gave him cigarettes, 



272 UNAPPRECIATED JOKE. 

with the hope of increasing his speed, I knew my conversa- 
tion soothed him, for he slept most of the way, and only woke 
up to have another smoke. 

When I laughed at the slowness of our journey, he de- 
clared it was the quickest he had made, and he had driven on 
the route for twenty years. The postilion is nearly fifty, I 
should judge ; so if he took to the road when he says he did, 
he must have been to Malaga and back ten or twelve times. 

"Oh, you Americans," said the tawny Jehu, "are always 
in a hurry ; you think a man ought to travel two hundred miles 
a day (he was very sincere). You are never contented unless 
in a devil of a hurry. You never take time or anything else." 

" We'll take something some time," I replied. 

"What?" (drowsily.) 

" Cuba." 

Joke lost ; answered only by a deep snore. 





CHAPTER XXXIY. 

LISBON. 

EW cities of Europe have undergone more of 
a change than Lisbon, in respect to the con- 
dition of the streets. From one of the dirtiest 
it has become one of the cleanest capitals on 
the continent, though many of the old thor- 
oughfares are narrow, crooked, and even filthy. 
Lisbon has quite a new hfe since the completion 
of its railway connections with the remainder of Eu- 
rope, and is said to be increasing steadily in population. 
There are indications of improvement in the new buildings 
going up, and the alterations making in the old. "With nearly 
three hundred thousand souls, it is believed that in a few years 
it Mall have four hundred thousand. The trade has not been 
so large for many years. Rents are advancing, and numerous 
foreigners have opened commercial houses. Hundreds of 
Spaniards, despairing of any settled condition of affairs in their 
own country, have gone there to live, and have carried a good 
deal of money with them. The port looks very bustling, and 
the harbor- — more properly roadstead — is one of the finest on 
the globe. Flags of every nation are flying, and regular lines 
of steamers, running between there and the principal points in 
Great Britain, along the Spanish and French coasts, and even 
to the far East. Lisbon, from being provincial and isolated, 
has become cosmopolitan, and prosperous. Seen from the 
river — it is situated on the Tagus — it presents, from its rising 
situation, an exceedingly attractive, even imposing appearance, 
which is not sustained, however, when we get ashore. Few 
18 



274 PROMENADES AND GARDENS. 

of the buildings are remarkable for architecture ; but those of 
a public character, in Commercio or Black Horse Square, are 
very creditable, as well as the Palace of the l^ecessidades, 
where the Cortes are held, and the San Carlos Opera House. 
The square is fine ; but I cannot say as much for the eques- 
trian statue of King Joseph I., who has as melancholy an 
expression as if he had had a presentiment of how unnatural 
he would be made to appear in public. 

On the south of the Commercio is the Tagus, which is 
reached by a flight of steps. 

Another notable square is the Kocio, in which is situated 
the handsome national theatre, recently erected on the site of 
the old Inquisition. The barbarous autos da fe, of which 
every one has read with horror, were there celebrated. While 
standing on the spot, I could not help thinking what a mighty 
stride reason and humanity have made even in this generation. 
It does not seem possible that so little time ago as in 1835, the 
Inquisition was for the last time abolished in Spain, and its 
property confiscated for the payment of the public debt. The 
Supreme Court of the Inquisition, to which all other courts of 
the kingdom (Portugal was then part of Spain) were subordi- 
nate, had its seat at Lisbon, and its power was not broken imtil 
the eighteenth century. 

The Passeio Publico, or promenade, is small, but pleasant, 
and handsomely laid out. The Praga de Ligueira, used as a 
public market, is a picturesque-looking square, and the shady 
avenue called the Saltire, is an agreeable lounging-place of a 
warm afternoon. 

The public gardens, well stocked with olive and orange 
trees, north of the Pocio square, and in other quarters of the 
town, are well laid out, and favorite places of resort in the 
summer and early autumn evenings. For a city of its size, 
Lisbon has many squares and gardens ; the people having 
something of the French fondness for out-door life, and much 
of the German liking for sipping wine and smoking under the 
blue roof of the sky. 

The best part of Lisbon, that which has been rebuilt since 



CHURCHES. 2Y5 

the great earthquake of 1765 (it threw dovm a large part of 
the city, destroyed 60,000 lives, and made Yoltaire an infidel), 
lies in the valley between Castle Hill, on the East, and the 
hills of San Francisco and Do Carmo on the "West, and consists 
of several parallel, right-angled streets, bearing such names as 
Gold, Silver, and Cloth streets. The Castle of St. George is 
remarkable for the beauty of its situation, and the numerous 
convents on the hills, resembling palaces and fortresses, though 
sombre and dreary when entered, have an imposing and 
picturesque appearance at a distance. 

The grandest piece of architecture in Lisbon, is the cele- 
brated Aqueduct which conveys water from springs rising near 
the village of Bellas to the city, a distance of eleven miles. 
Partly underground, it crosses near the municipal limits a deep 
valley, which is spanned by a bridge 2,500 feet long, composed 
of thirty arches, the largest of them over 100 feet long, and 
some 250 high. The water is delicious, as I can testify, and 
from the rocky cisterns in the building, known as the Mother 
of "Waters, supplies the entire population. 

Lisbon is like life. There are a great many ups and downs 
in it. Riding there may be good for dyspepsia ; but having 
the constitution of a camel, and the digestion of an ostrich, I 
do not need to be jolted ; and for mere pleasure it is superflu- 
ous. Omnibuses run there, but only in certam quarters, on 
account of the conformation of the ground. 

The churches are interesting, particularly the Cathedral, 
the oldest in the city, notable for containing the remains of St. 
Vincent — a martyr, of course — who has been, is, or will be, 
(all three perhaps) the patron saint of the kingdom. The 
saintly ashes are regarded with great veneration, and many 
persons who have mental troubles and physical ailments find 
themselves relieved after attending mass, and praying near the 
shrine. So the ecclesiastic authorities state, and heretics have 
no right to doubt. 

The Church of the Martyrs, erected on the spot where 
Alphonso I. mounted the walls of the city, and rescued it 
from the Moors, has a number of points of attraction, as have 
also San Hoque and Santa Engra§ia. 



276 A FIERY SERMON. 

The Portuguese have been, and are still, the most devout 
Catholics in Europe, even exceeding the Spaniards, who are 
beginning to be affected by the spirit of scepticism that now 
pervades the entire continent. The churches are well attended, 
though less so than they were before the lines of railway and 
telegraph were introduced. It is said that the Roman religion 
suffers by the extension of electricity and steam, and I have 
been told that many of the priests regard those agencies as 
great destroyers of souls. They have certainly done much to 
revolutionize thought, to break up conservatism and fixed 
custom, and diminish the weight of authority as opposed to 
reason. 

Though still very devout, as a people, many of the educa- 
ted Portuguese criticise the conduct of the priests, and question 
the assumptions of the Pope. They only perform enough of 
their Church duties to prevent excommunication, and are really 
negative in their theological belief. 

I was informed, while there, that a reverend father preached 
a sermon of the most extraordinary character. He declared 
that the world is rapidly going to perdition, the Catholic as 
well as the Protestant part of it ; that the so-called spirit of 
progress is a great moral and religious decline ; that the devil 
is at the base of all the so-called discoveries in science, and 
inventions in mechanics ; that he had been let loose upon the 
globe, and was carrying everything before him ; that God had 
permitted this to prove to the true Christians (the Catholics, 
of course) that general education and prosperity are not only 
dangerous but deleterious ; that, in the next fifty years, ninety- 
nine out of every hundred souls would certainly be damned ; 
that there would be no public or private virtue ; that every 
one, seeing the dreadful efiect of doubt and fear, would be 
terrified, and flock to the original faith (Pomanism), when a 
kind of spiritual millennium would reign on earth. 

If he did not feel that this was to be, said the holy father, 
he would pray that that much-abused supporter of the Church 
(pointing to the site of the Inquisition) might be revived, and 
continue its sacred work. Science, freedom, enlightenment, 



A MIXED POPULATION. 277 

were only synonymous with atheism, and would never have 
shown their hideous heads if the Inquisition, ordained by the 
Heavenly Father, had not been most unfortunately suppressed 
by those who could not understand the pui'pose of the Lord. 

It is not probable the priest who delivered this moderate 
harangue spoke by any authority than his own (indeed, I have 
heard he was reprimanded by the Archbishop, and suspended 
from the pulpit for three months for preaching such a sermon) ; 
but it is so singular that any sane man could hold opinions of 
the sort, that I have deemed them worth reproducing. 

The population is much mixed, containing, in addition to 
natives from every province of Portugal, a large number of 
mulattoes, negroes, and Gallegos or Spaniards from Galicia, who 
perform most of the menial oflSces. They are to Lisbon what 
the Irish are to New York ; but are noted for their fidelity 
and honesty, and have the reputation of making excellent 
servants. The Gallegos seem to do most of the work done in 
the town, carrying water, bundles, and burdens, and acting in 
almost every servile capacity. 

The Lisbonites reckon values by reis, or millreis, though 
no such coin exists. It is less than one tenth of a cent, and 
when the price of anything is stated in reis, it seems enormous. 
For instance, admission to the lower boxes at the Italian Opera 
House (San Carlos) is, if I remember, three thousand reis, and 
to the dress-boxes thirty-five hundi-ed reis, which was quite 
startling to me when I bought my ticket. Surely $3 and 
$3.50 in gold is extravagant rate enough for an opera ticket ; 
but when it is counted by thousands of reis, the privilege of 
hearing "Semiramide" or "Don Giovanni," looks like bank- 
ruptcy. 

On the whole, though Lisbon serves very well for a few 
days' visit on account of its novelty, it is not likely to hold a 
stranger long, to charm him as many European cities do, or be 
a bright memory when he has gone away. Love, and peace, 
and friendship, and generosity are there as everywhere else ; 
but tourists are not in pursuit of those, and cannot wait to 
find them. They seek only the peculiar and the external 
which are open to all. 



CHAPTER XXXV, 



AI.ONG THE KHINE, 




FTER seeing France, one naturally goes to 
Germany. Its recent unification will be very 
acceptable to travellers, w^ho have been unable 
heretofore to tell in what part they were of 
that much-divided country. The old maps 
make the number of German States thirty-seven, con- 
sisting of Duchies, Grand Duchies, Principalities, Land- 
graviates. Electorates, Republics, and Kingdoms, some 
of them with such extraordinary names, — Hohenzol- 
lem-Sigmaringen, and Schwarzburg-Sondershausen, for in- 
stance — that strangers grow bewildered at the very mention of 
them. 

Stuttgart, the capital of Wiirtemburg, on the Nesenbach, 
a small affluent of the ISTeckar, has a population of 56,000 or 
57,000. It is surrounded by gardens and vineyards, and en- 
tered by an avenue of poplars. The city is well built, and has 
some handsome streets and squares. It contains a fine library 
and museum, and in the royal palace are some good Flemish 
paintings and sculptures by Canova and Donneker. Its prin- 
cipal industries are printing and book-binding, and Cotta's 
printing establishment is one of the largest on the Continent. 
Stuttgart is an old place, and is named after a castle which 
stood on the site of the town in the ninth century. 

Carlsruhe — Charles' Pest — capital of the Grand Duchy of 
Baden, is four miles east of the Rhine. Its principal streets 
radiate from the palace as a centre, the gardens of the palace 
forming the principal promenade. One of the hospitals was 



HEIDELBERG. 279 

endowed by Stultz, the fashionable London tailor, who for his 
generosity was made a Baron by the Grand Duke. The city 
is about a century and a half old, and contains about 28,000 
people. 

Heidelberg is one of the few places in Germany that de- 
serves the reputation it has gained for beauty of situation. 
It lies very charmingly in the valley of the Neckar, surrounded 
by lofty hills of the richest green, and looks as if, after a de- 
lightful chase over the graceful slopes that hold it in soft cap- 
tivity, it had run down to drink the bright waters, and fallen 
sweetly asleep in contemplation of its own loveliness. Though 
it has but a single main street, and contains only 16,000 people, 
it is one of the pleasantest sojourning-places in the Rhine 
region. I know of no spot I should rather spend the summer 
in, and even for a few weeks I prefer it to any of the fashion- 
able spas. 

I could go every day to the famous old Castle on the Kon- 
igsstuhl — the finest ruin in that country, and justly styled the 
Alhambra of the Germans. Its towers, turrets, buttresses, and 
balconies are so extensive, so ivy-grown, and so impregnated 
with events, that their interest sinks deep and lasts long. "What 
a strange history it has had during the six centuries since its 
completion ! Begun by the son-in-law of Eudolph of Haps- 
burg, altered and added to by various Electors ; seriously in- 
jured during the Thirty Years' War; almost demolished by 
the barbarity of the French under Louis XIY. ; and finally 
struck by hghtning, and the little that had been left, destroyed 
— its walls only standing — it is more beautiful in its ruins than 
the most pretentious palace. 

A very good restaurant has been established near the castle, 
so that those who like can strengthen themselves with substan- 
tial when their romance is exhausted. The place is extremely 
popular, the road to it being lined with carriages and pedes- 
trians from morning until after dark. Sentimental persons 
affect the castle after moonlight, and the students, it is said, 
make most of their conquests by taking their fair companions 
up there during the dangerous hours. That is hardly just, for 



280 GERMAN STUDENTS, 

the contest is too unequal. What woman with the least poetry 
in her soul, or the least warmth in her blood, could resist even 
commonplace wooing backed by moonlight, a ruined castle, and 
five centuries of history ? 

German students — or, rather, the students who attend Ger- 
man universities — are generally associated m the feminine mind 
with a good deal of poetry and romance. They are regarded 
as high-spirited, fascinating fellows, whose time is divided be- 
tween intrigues and duels, and who are constantly fluctuating 
between sentimental suicide and a career of highway robbery 
in the Black Forest. There are seven or eight hundred of the 
University students at Heidelberg ; and as I once came within 
an ace of being sent there, I have observed with attention the 
class of beings who might have been my collegiate companions, 
I have noticed them too at Prague, Gottingen, Jena, Bonn, 
and other academic centres, and they are very unlike the crea- 
tures fancy has painted them. Generally they are very plain, 
even homely, awkward and heavy-looking, as if the poles of 
their existence were tobacco and beer. They are not at all fresh 
or youthful in appearance, many of them wearing glasses, and 
having an aged, sheepish expression in no wise prepossessing. 

The animal man is rarely interesting or even endurable 
before he is five-and-twenty, and the students in that country 
seem over that in years, and under that in experience. When 
they are diligent, they incline to metaphysics or mathematics, 
which are the antipodes of sentiment. They are not in any 
true sense vivacious or romantic ; but they are fond of sensa- 
tion, without knowing exactly how to create one — very much 
like the English mob, which manifested its displeasure with the 
Government by pulling down the railings of Hyde Park. The 
duels they fight are merely brutal stupidities, the combatants 
Deing provided with masks and wooden swords, with which 
they bruise and hack each other carelessly enough, knowing 
they have neither beauty nor symmetry to lose. 

Their greatest performances are in beer-drinking, and in 
this they excel. They are capable of swallowing twenty pints 
an hour, and from any one who can do that nothing more 



MANNHEIM. 281 

should be expected. Beer and tobacco in excess make tliera 
turbulent — liow could it be otherwise ? — but they are seldom 
attractive, except when seen through the lens of imagination. 
When they leave the University they often beconie solid and 
useful citizens ; but they are so callow and contracted as 
students that they are seldom interesting, save to themselves. 

The Heidelberg University, founded in 1386, is the oldest 
in Germany, except that of Prague. It has some 50 professors, 
V5 or 80 teachers, a library of 150,000 volumes, with a number 
of rare MSS., and an income, exclusive of fees, of $20,000. 
The majority of its students are instructed in law and medi- 
cine. Besides the University there are in the town a college 
for juniors and a number of elementary government schools. 

Mannheim, on the right bank of the Rhine, in Baden, is 
low in situation, and protected by a dike. It is entered by 
three principal gates, and is remarkable for the extreme regu- 
larity of its streets, forming a number of squares, ornamented 
with fountains, which lack nothing but water to render them 
worthy of the name. The public buildings are noteworthy ; 
the theatre being famous for the first representation of Schil- 
ler's " Robbers." Mannheim has greatly improved of late — its 
population is now 30,000 — having become the largest com- 
mercial city in the Grand Duchy. It was once strongly forti- 
fied, and, owing to its situation, has been the scene of numer- 
ous conflicts, from which it has suffered severely. During a 
siege by the Austrians in 1795, only fourteen houses in the 
town remained uninjured. It is a very cheap place to live, 
and several hundred English, and a few American families re- 
side there on that account. 

Mentz, or Mainz, is the place where tourists usually take 
the steamer to descend the Rhine. A fortress of the German 
Confederation, it had, until recently, a Prussian and Austrian 
garrison, and was commanded alternately for five years, by an 
Austrian and Prussian governor. It is walled, flanked with 
bastions, and defended by a citadel and several forts. A 
bridge of boats, nearly 1,700 feet long, connects Mainz with its 
suburb, Castel, near which the river forms an island. The 



282 THE VAUNTED RHINE. 

city is partially built on an acclivity, rising picturesquely from 
the Rhine. The houses are high and imposing ; but many of 
the streets are so narrow and dark that they are far from 
pleasant walking-places. The vast Cathedral of red sandstone, 
whose architecture is of three centuries, is impressive and in- 
teresting, from the number of historic tombs it contains. The 
site of the house in which John Gensfleisch, better known as 
Guttenberg, was born, is occupied by a Casino, and a fine 
bronze statue of the old printer, by Thorwaldsen, stands in the 
open space near the theatre. The public market, in one of the 
squares, affords a good opportunity to get acquainted with the 
costumes, manners, and peculiarities of the peasantry, who 
come from miles around to sell their products and wares. 
Mainz is one of the places where, it is claimed, Constantine 
beheld the vision of the Cross when he was marching against 
Maxentius ; and many of the devout citizens absolutely believe 
the wonderful story. 

The Ehine did not disappoint me when I first descended 
it, for I knew all about it. I remembered from early boyhood 
that it rises in Switzerland, being formed by two small streams, 
the Hinter, and Yordher Rhein ; that it is nearly one thousand 
miles long, including all its windings ; that its width varies 
from 750 to 2,150 feet ; and that it empties into the J^orth Sea 
or German Ocean. From Basel to Mainz it flows through a 
wide valley bordered on the left by the Vosges, and on the 
right by other mountains, and the Black Forest. At Bingen, 
begins the best scenery, in the shape of wild, romantic views, 
bold precipices, mountain summits, on both sides of the river, 
with castles and fortresses frowning in ivied decay from seem- 
ingly inaccessible steeps, and with openings, now and then, 
through the rocky walls, furnishing glimpses of fertile vine- 
yards, smiling valleys, and delightful landscapes. At Bonn 
the grand scenery ends; but pleasant villages and towns, 
picturesque islands, and graceful pictures of nature continue to 
hold the eye for hundreds of miles. 

Many tourists feel as if they were imposed on by the per- 
sons who have been writing up the overrated river for the last 



ROMANTIC VIEWS. 283 

forty years. The Rhine has been more praised in proportion 
to its merits than any body of water in either hemisphere. 

The Germans think it beautiful because it is in Germany, 
which is natural enough. The French, when they take the 
trouble to look at it, believe it as pretty as anything can be, 
outside of Paris, The Italians, who rarely see it, say it is 
quite good, for they have nothing like it. The English laud 
it, for it must be wonderful in their eyes to surpass the Thames. 
Many of the Americans are rhetorical upon it, because they 
are afraid they will be charged with bad taste if they don't 
declare they admire it. ITo doubt our trans- Atlantic cousins 
set the fashion of verbal extravagance over the Rhine, and we 
have slavishly followed it. Again and again have we repeated 
the trite stanzas of " Childe Harold," beginning, 

" The castled crag of Drachenfels 
Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine ; 
The river nobly foams and flows — " 

and winding up with the sentimental dash, 

" Nor could a spot on earth be found 
To nature and to nie so dear, 
Could thy fond eyes in following mine 
Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine." 

Every sentimental woman has thought "thy" meant her, 
and every romantic youth has fancied "mine" meant him; 
and so the river got into such a tangle of idealization that it 
has never been fairly straightened by the hand of reason. 

The Rhine is no finer than, if so fine as, the Hudson, and 
the Upper Mississippi is quite its equal. But for its castles, 
its legends, and its associations, its scenery would not be deemed 
very remarkable by those familiar with the Elbe, the Moselle, 
and the Danube. 

The objection I have to it is, that its hills — they are moun- 
tains in Germany — are barren without grandeur, and not being 
beautiful either, they fail of efiiect. They recall the lakes of 



284 THE RHINE FALLS. 

Conio, Maggiore, and Lucerne, to the serious disadvantage 
of the Rhine. 

The scenery near Konigswinter, commanding a view of the 
Seven Mountains, inchiding the Drachenfels, is much the best 
on the river. That is well worthy of admiration, which I can 
hardly say of any other part of the stream between Bonn and 
Bingen. 

Siegfried's slaying the dragon and becoming invulnerable 
by bathing in the monster's blood ; the desperate love of Ro- 
land for Hildegunde (the story is memorable because it fur- 
nishes one of the few accounts on record of a man dying of a 
broken heart) ; the imprisonment of the daughter of the Em- 
peror Henry lY., and her secret wedding to Henry of Bruns- 
wick, and other romantic extravagances, are alwajs quoted on 
the Rhine to intensify the interest ; but they remind me of a 
charlatan's recourse to large posters to help out a poor show. 

The Rhine Falls, near Schaff hausen, though more like rapids 
than a cataract, deserve far more attention than they receive. 
The view from the Schloss Laufen is very imposing. The 
river comes boiling down through four channels made by 
high rocks, and produces an effect, when you stand at the base 
of the falls, or row up to them in a boat — it seems as if it 
would be swamped every moment — that is not soon forgotten. 
The Rhine at that point is three hundred and fifty feet wide, 
and descends altogether nearly one hundred feet. The rain- 
bows, both solar and lunar, are of the best description, and a 
night spent at the cascade, when the moon is full, is a pleasure 
one who has enjoyed it would not willingly forego. 

Ehrenbreitstein, opposite the mouth of the Moselle, is one 
of the strongest fortresses in the world. The Prussians con- 
sider it impregnable, as the English do Gibraltar ; but nothing 
is impregnable. No military position can be placed beyond 
the possibility of surrender. Though the castle is perched on 
a precipitous rock nearly four hundred feet above the Rhine, 
it has twice been taken, and will be taken again no doubt. 
Ehrenbreitstein has four hmidred cannon, and vast arched cis- 
terns, capable of holding three years' supply of water. The 



A GERMAN ENTHUSIAST. 285 

panorama from Ehrenbreitstein is one of the best on the Rhine, 
and repays one for the hour or two employed in the ascent and 
descent. 

The Moselle, first introduced to my childhood by a then 
popular song, " On the Banks of the Blue Moselle," is not blue 
at all — nothing ever is what it is represented — but of a soiled 
green color when it is not positively muddy. It is a very 
pretty river, however, from Treves to Coblenz. On the whole, 
I prefer it to the Rhine, and think it ought to be seen more 
frequently than it is. It is much smaller tha'n the Rhine, but 
far more ^vinding and varied as to its scenery. It has ruined 
monasteries, and castles, and legends, and histories in abun- 
dance, and has the advantage of not being so over-praised as 
to cause disappointment. Excursions into the mountainous 
regions of the Moselle, particularly the volcanic Eifel, may be 
made with profit, for they command fine views and reveal fine 
sceneiy not visible from the deck of a steamer. 

I would caution tourists, however, from following all the 
counsels of Baedeker, who, being a German, is wildly en- 
thusiastic about everything German. He is an honest and 
trustworthy guide in the main, but he counsels all his readers 
to travel largely on foot, and ascend every elevation between 
the Oder and the Rhine, the Danube and the Baltic. He 
talks of the momitains in this region as if they were sky- 
piercing, when they are really nothing but hills, and glows over 
scenery as grand and magnificent, which, to one who has been 
through Italy and Switzerland, is tame and unattractive. He 
is a little insane respecting pedestrianism. He urges you to 
go to the top of a mud-bank more zealously than he does to 
climb Mont Blanc, and describes as overwhelmingly impressive 
what is altogether commonplace. 

I suppose it is my misfortune not to have been bom an 
enthusiast. I came into the world very weary ; but I believe 
when a thing is beautiful or sublime, I can recognize it with- 
out a prompter. I have made a rude estimate of the time that 
would be required to do Baedeker's various excursions on foot, 
and have discovered that to embrace the Continent a man must 
begin at eighteen and live to seventy-three. 




CHAPTER XXXYI. 

GEKMANT. 

\0 one visits Germany without going to Cologne ; 
the celebrated Cathedral being the principal at- 
traction. Begnn in 1248, it is not yet completed. 
It was neglected for generations, until some eigh- 
teen years ago, and now it promises to be as 
nearly finished as any great ecclesiastical edifice is permitted 
to be in the Old World. In the form of a cross, over five 
hundred feet long and about two hundred and fifty broad, the 
roof resting on one hundred columns, it is regarded as one of 
the purest and finest specimens of Gothic architecture in Eu- 
rope. Its completion will cost about $5,000,000. I admire it 
particularly for its simple grandeur and impressiveness of 
effect; but the Duomo at Milan, St. Peter's at Rome, the 
Dom-Kirche at Vienna, the Cathedral at Strasburg, and other 
superb churches make it difiicult to determine which one is 
worthiest of artistic worship. The architect of tlie noble pile 
at Cologne is unknown, and the original designs are forever 
lost. The crane, on the southern tower, with its long project- 
ing arm, remained in the same position for four centuries; 
but has, I think, been removed very recently. As the Cathe- 
dral stands on a slight eminence, the external gallery com- 
mands a fine view of the city, the Rhine, and the surrounding 
country. 

Cologne — Koln the Germans call it — is built in the form of 
a crescent, and connected with the town of Deutz, on the other 
side of the river, by a handsome bridge, to which the old 
bridge of boats has given place. The surrounding walls and 



COLOGNE. 287 

the buildings in the old quarters of the city look mediaeval. 
Many of the streets are dark, narrow, and extremely dirty, and 
little relieved by the thirty-four public squares. It has mate- 
rially improved during the last twenty years, and its present 
population is about 115,000, nearly all of them Catholics. 

Of the twenty-seven churches, that of St. Ursula is among 
the most curious, as it contains what is declared to be the 
bones of eleven thousand virgins who, on returning from a 
pilgrimage to Rome with Ursula, an English princess, were 
barbarously murdered in Cologne. These bones, arranged in 
cases placed about the church, give it the appearance of an 
anatomical museum. 

The city is not quite so bad as its reputation, though fra- 
grant enough to satisfy any ordinary nostril. Ever since Cole- 
ridge enumerated its odors, and wrote the familiar quatrain, 

The river Rhine, as is well known, 
Doth wash the city of Cologne ; 
But tell, ye nymphs, what power divine 
Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine ? 

the town has been declared the most ill-smelling in Eu- 
rope. I recognize its claims to the distinction, but I have had 
so wide an experience in Germany, that I do not believe 
superiority of stenches should be too unreservedly assigned to 
Cologne. Other German towns might successfully dispute the 
claim, and were any wagers laid, and were I appointed one of 
the determining committee, I should not want to hold the 
stakes unless I could have the privilege at the same time of 
holding my nose. 

Is it not strange that one of the most popular perfumes, 
sold there by forty-three original Jean Marie Farinas, should be 
named after the most unsavory city on the Continent ? I don't 
think the Cologne should be exported. It is all needed at 
home. If the amount annually manufactured could sweeten 
one square foot of the offensive city, I should be willing to 
believe it all original Jean Marie Farina. 

Aix la Chapelle (Aachen, in German) has lost its old grand- 



288 AIX LA CHAPELLE. 

eur as an imperial city, and has few reminiscences even of 
Charlemagne, who founded it, and made it his principal resi- 
dence. The Cathedral has two distinct parts of different 
architecture ; the part erected by the great Emperor, at the 
close of the eighth century, being an octagon surrounded by a 
sixteen-sided gallery, and ending in a cupola. Under the 
chandelier presented by Frederick Barbarossa is the tomb of 
Charlemagne, which, having been opened in the year 1000, 
showed the dead monarch seated on a marble throne. 

The sacristy of the Church contains a gown of the Yirgin 
Mary, the baby clothes of the infant Jesus ; the bloody cloth 
in which the body of John the Baptist was wrapped after his 
execution ; the napkin with which the loins of Christ were 
girded on the Cross, with other articles of apparel worn by 
him and his mother. You are not bound to believe that these 
things are genuine. If you pay fifteen silver-groschen, you 
are privileged to hold what opinion you choose ; and if you 
give a liberal trinkgeld to the sacristan, you can express any 
scepticism you like. 

The citizens, nearly all of the Roman faith, regard the 
relics as supremely sacred, and do not usually allow them to 
be shown to strangers more than once in seven years. If they 
would extend the time to seven thousand, it would be quite as 
well. 

I have heard that the Miinsterkirche, as it is often styled, 
also owns the cast-off garments of most of the saints, the core 
of the apple Eve ate, the pipe Adam smoked in Eden, several 
of the roars the lions greeted Daniel with on the occasion of 
his compulsory visit, and the umbrella St. Peter carried when 
he went to market. This is probably a mistake ; but I am 
confident the Church could and would fiimish those articles, 
and many more if they were wanted ; for its producing power 
in that way is unlimited. 

"Worms (near the Rhine, in Hesse-Darmstadt), noted for its 
Diets, its antiquity, and historic associations, always interests 
me. It existed before the arrival of the Romans, and in the 
thirteenth century had 70,000 souls, though now it cannot 



■W^ORMS AND CASSEL 289 

boast of more than 13,000. In 1689, the French bunied the 
whole city, the Cathedral and Synagogue excepted. The 
Cathedral, more than eight and a half centuries old, with its 
two cupolas and four slender towers, is an excellent specimen 
of the Romanesque. The open space before the Church is 
supposed to have been the spot where? Brunhilde and Chrim- 
hilde quarreled, as chronicled in the Nibelungen-lied, most of 
whose scenes are laid in the venerable city. The Jewish com- 
munity of Worms is said to have existed 588 years B.C., and 
their old Synagogue is much more interesting to antiquarians, 
therefore, than to ordinary tourists like myself. 

When I visited Cassel (its population is about 40,000), 
capital of Hesse-Cassel, and the palace of Wilhelmshohe, a few 
months before the war, I did not dream it would be the prison- 
place of the French Emperor, who then seemed at the height 
of his power. Cassel is delightfully situated on both sides of 
the Fulda, and divided into the Old Town, and Upper and 
Lower New Town, with several suburbs. The Old Town, con- 
nected by a stone bridge with the New, is noted for narrow 
and dingy streets, relieved by the broad, handsome thorough- 
fares, and spacious squares of the other quarter. The Museum 
in the New Town is the finest building in the city, and its 
library and antiquities are interesting, though not much can be 
said in favor of most of its pictures. The gardens of the sum- 
mer palace of the Elector, with their groves and statues, of 
which Louis Napoleon had full range, would not be thought 
very disagreeable for a captive ; though he ultimately discov- 
ered, as all prisoners have, that without freedom the love- 
liest spot of earth must be repulsive. The palace is irregular 
but looks pictm-esque from its position and surroundings, and 
was erected at great expense. If a man must be a prisoner, 
Wilhelmshohe (William's Heights) is more than could be ex- 
pected from a prison. 

Being in Germany, I naturally had a desire to see the four 
free cities, which are no longer free, having passed under the 
domination of the Emperor William. 

Frankfort-on-the-Main is likelv to disappoint one as to size, 
19 



290 FRANKFORT- ON-THE-MAIN. 

for the reason that its reputation is so widely extended. Al- 
most everybody, forgetting his geography, expects to find its 
population at least 200,000 or 300,000, instead of 85,000 or 
90,000, as it actually is. The city lies in a narrow but charm- 
ing valley, the heights of the Rodenburg and the summits of 
the Taunus on the nortlf, and is surrounded by public grounds, 
on which are built many handsome and tasteful residences. 
The German Emperors were formerly elected and crowned 
there, and old watch-towers at diiQferent points in the neighbor- 
hood indicate the ancient limits of the city. One of the most 
conspicuous objects in the town is Launitz's monument of Gut- 
tenberg. Guttenberg is the central figure ; Faust and Schoeffer 
are on the right and left, and the likenesses of thirteen cele- 
brated printers adorn the frieze ; while in the niches under- 
neath are the arms of the four towns where printing was ear- 
liest practiced, and on separate pedestals are feminine figures 
emblematic of Industry, Natural History, Poetry, and The- 
ology. 

In the Hirschgraben is the house in which Goethe was 
born. It is one of the first places strangers visit, particularly 
the attics facing the court, where the poet lived, and where he 
wrote his "Werther," and "Goetz von Berlichingen." • On 
the north side of the town is the statue of the poet, represent- 
ing him in modern costume, with a wreath of laurel in his 
hand, while bas-reliefs on the pedestal illustrate the principal 
characters of his creation. 

Fronting the quay, along the river, are a number of fine 
dwellings occupied by diplomatists, merchants, and bankers. 
The finest street in the city is the Zeil, bordered by handsome 
shops and warehouses, in which the greater part of the .trade 
is transacted. The Judengasse (Jews' street) is noted for its 
dirty, gloomy and antiquated houses, where, until 1806, all the 
Jews in the town — they now number some 5,000 in all — re- 
sided in self-defence, on account of the tyrannical treatment to 
which they were subjected. The house in which the founder 
of the great firms of the Rothschilds was born— 1743 — and 
lived for many years, is still standing, and looks dingy and 



THE HOUSE OF THE ROTHSCHILDS. 



291 



dreary enough. He was Mayer Anselm Rothschild, and edu- 
cated for a rabbi, but could not resist his commercial instinct, 
and found his vocation in a Hanoverian banking-house. The 
parent firm of the 
Rothschild, in a cor- 
ner house, between 
the Zeil and the Ju- 
dengasse — the other 
firms are in Vienna, 
Paris, Naples and 
London — is so un- 
pretending that, 
when I first entered 
it with a letter of 
credit, thought I 
must have made a 
mistake. The whole 
establishment did 
not seem to be worth 
more than $500, in- 
stead of wielding 
such an immense 
capital that it has 
been a boast of the 
great bankers that 
no king in Europe 
could go to war 
without the consent 
of the Rothschilds. 
The Cathedral, 
more than six cen- 
turies old, is inter- 
esting from the fact 
that the Emperors of Germany were formerly crowned at its 
high altar, after they had been elected, in the chapel to the 
right. Near the Cathedral is a comer house from which Luther 
is said to have addressed the peoplg wheu on his journey to 




PEASANT COSTUMES, GERMANY. 



292 BREMEN. 

Worms, and a stone effigy of the Keformer, with an inscrip- 
tion, marks the spot. 

There are many public buildings, and several art galleries 
(the Stadel is vastly overrated) in Frankfort, which, for its 
population, is considered the wealthiest city on the globe. I 
have heard that at least a hundred of its citizens are worth over 
$10,000,000 each, and that the possession of a paltry $2,000,- 
000 or $3,000,000 is regarded there as contemptible. 

Bremen, another of the free cities, is situated on botli banks 
of the Weser, and has a population of some Y5,000, nearly all 
Protestants. Like so many of the German cities, it is divided 
into the Old and the New Town ; the former representing the 
middle ages, and the latter the spirit of modern improvement. 
Bremen is not interesting in architecture, art, or associations, 
being exclusively commercial in its character. It has an exten- 
sive foreign trade, especially with this country. Its shipping has 
more than doubled in the last twenty years, and is still increas- 
ing; though, owing to bars in the river, large vessels cannot get 
further than the mouth of the Weser, where Bremerhafen, 
thirty-five miles distant, has been built for their accommoda- 
tion. 

Bremen is the principal German port for the debarkation 
of emigrants for the United States. It is curious, interesting, 
and somewhat sad to watch the poor people leaving their native 
land for a far-off shore and future home, where, whatever their 
expectations of ultimate gain, there must be uncertainty and 
anxiety, severe trial and much hardship, before they can adapt 
themselves to the new life of the Kepublic. Coming as they 
do from every part of what is now the Empire, their costumes 
and manners differ widely, and seem grotesque enough to one 
accustomed to metropolitan imiformity and routine. A large 
part of the emigrants are from the agricultural districts, and the 
small towns ; and I do not wonder they are amazed and per- 
plexed when they catch their first views of the promised land 
in the tumult of Castle Garden and the roar of Broadway. 

Hamburg, the third of the once free cities, on the right bank 
of the Elbe, some se vent v miles from its mouth, is the greatest 



HAMBURG. 



293 



commercial port on the Continent. Fully four miles in cir- 
cumference, with a population of nearly 200,000, it is enclosed 
by shaded wallvs on the site of its former fortifications, and in- 
tersected by canals 
and brandies of the 
Alster river. Like 
most of the German 
cities, it enjoys the 
reputation of having 
been founded by 
Charlemagne, a n d 
many of its streets 
and its buildings are 
sufiiciently old and 
dismal to have be- 
longed to his time. 
The banks of the In- 
ner Alster — a lake 
within the city — ai^ 
covered with private 
residences, and the 
lake itself in pleasant 
weather is thronged 
with pleasure boats, 
giving it a very ani- 
mated appearance. 
The commerce of 
Hamburg is much 
facilitated by canals 
connecting it with 
the Baltic and with 
the interior, but it 
suffers greatly for the want of a proper harbor. In 1842 a 
great fire destroyed more than sixty streets, with many of the 
public buildings, and left over 20,000 of its inhabitants house- 
less and almost penniless. 

Lubeck, thirty-six miles from Hamburg, is on the river 




i'iiASANT COSTUIIJSS, GERMAHT. 



294 THE PRISON OF BARON TRENCK. 

Trave, and the last of the former free cities of Germany. Less 
important now than several centuries ago, it recalls the mediae- 
val time by its surrounding ramparts, and the antique style of 
its buildings. It has considerable trade and manufactures, and 
a population of 32,000 or 33,000. 

Hanover is on a sandy plain, divided by the river Leine, 
and in the New Town regularly laid out with an esplanade, on 
which stand the monumental rotunda of Leibnitz and a col- 
umn commemorative of the Hanoverians who fell at "Water- 
loo. Near the city, which has a population of Y5,000 or 80,000, 
is the old palace of Hernnhausen, where those dull sensualists, 
George I, and George 11. delighted to dwell. 

Magdeburg, on the Elbe, seventy-five miles from BerKn, is 
divided by the branches of the river into three parts, and is 
considered one of the strongest fortified places in Europe. In 
the formidable citadel, the celebrated Baron Trenck was con- 
fined for a number of years. Though loaded down with 
enormous chains, a massive iron collar, and a ring about his 
body, the daring adventurer, in spite of barbarous cruelties, 
which would have killed almost any other man, was again 
and again on the very eve of escape. Few men have been 
more exhaustless in resources, more versatile and more bril- 
liantly audacious. It seems a pity, notwitlistanding his defects, 
that, after aU his desperate enterprises, he should have been 
beheaded in Paris on suspicion of being a secret emissary of the 
monarch who had been his lifelong and unrelenting foe. 

I have seen Trenck's dungeon in the casemate, and his cell 
— made specially for him — in the star fort. The man who 
could persistently have tried to escape, weighed down as he was 
with m^acles, bolts and bars, must have been a hopeful and 
determined spirit indeed. 

Magdeburg presents a good appearance, and the New 
Market and Old Market squares, and the Fiirstenwall prome- 
i nade, along the margin of the river, are quite pleasant. The 
city was known and mentioned in the records of the eighth 
century ; distinguished itself in the Eeformation ; was taken 
by storm in 1631, and given up to wholesale massacre by the 



LEIPSIC. 295 

brutal Tilly. Hundreds of women and children, who had 
taken refuge in a church, were debarred from escape, the build- 
ing set on fire, and every one of the poor creatures burned to 
death. Almost the whole town was laid in ashes, and at least 
30,000 persons were butchered in cold blood. 

Leipsic, the great centre of the book trade, is on an exten- 
sive plain on the Elster, joined there by the Pleisse and Parde, 
and consists of an Old Central Town, and extensive and grow- 
ing suburbs. The Old Town is quaintly built, but generally 
clean and well lighted, and contains the Eathaus (Townhall), 
several churches, the University, founded more than four and 
a half centuries ago, and the great Booksellers' Exchange. The 
subm'bs include many large and pretentious buildings, and a 
number of gardens, which give the quarter an air of substan- 
tiality and comfort. There are about one hundred and forty 
bookselling firms in the town, thirty-five or forty printing 
ofiices, more than two hundred hand-presses, and some fifty 
printing machines, producing annually 60,000,000 of printed 
sheets. There are, moreover, five or six type founderies, and 
one or two more are soon to be erected. 

Leipsic is noted for its fairs ; those at Easter and Michael- 
mas being the chief. People from all parts of Europe, from 
Asia, and from America, to the number of the whole popula- 
tion — at present about 85,000 — assemble there at such times, 
and in the vast multitude may be found Armenians, Hungar- 
ians, Poles, Greeks, Persians, Turks, and other representatives 
of the South and East in their native and picturesque costumes. 
Every house and yard is then converted into a place of barter 
and exchange, and the principal streets and market-place are 
covered with booths of dealers in lace, linen, leather, tobacco, 
pipes, furs, jewelry, Bohemian glass, and every variety of mer- 
chandise. These fairs amply repay a visit. They more nearly 
resemble the great fairs at Nizhnee-Novgorod, during July and 
August, than any that are held in Europe. 

Nuremberg, the third city in Bavaria, in a well-cultivated 
plain, and surrounded by ancient walls fianked with towers, 
and enclosed by a broad ditch, is very striking in appearance, 



296 



NUREMBERG. 



especially when viewed from tlie heights adjacent to the town. 
Its arched gates, narrow and irregular streets, and quaint, 
gabled houses, precisely the same they were two or three cen- 
turies ago, carry the mind of the stranger back to the middle 
ages without any effort of his imagination. The Pegnitz, 
which is crossed by numerous bridges, divides the city into 
nearly equal parts — thp Lawrence and the Siebald side. The 




GERMAN FESTIVAL. 



public squares are numerous, and the largest (the Haupt, or 
Green Market) is adorned with a handsome fountain in the 
form of an open Gothic spire, while on its west side is the 
house where Albert Diirer was born. The Germans are wild- 
ly enthusiastic about this great artist, as they style him ; but all 
his pictures which I have seen — and they are by no means 
few — ^look like caricatures and burlesques of nature. I am 
aware that Raifaelle had the highest admiration for Diirer's 



ITS INDUSTRIAL PURSUITS. 297 

genius, and that the Niirembergers regard his memory with 
religions veneration ; but, in my judgment, his tendency to the 
grotesque and the fantastic mars the effect of all his paintings. 
If he had understood drawing and coloring, he might have 
been a very creditable artist. 

St. Siebald's Church is a handsome Gothic structure with 
a richly-carved portal, a massive bronze crucifix, and a curious 
bronze font. The tomb of St. Siebald was executed in bronze 
by Peter Vischer and his five sons, who labored upon it untir- 
ingly for thirteen years. The imperial castle, in the north- 
western corner of the town, is conspicuous by its height, and 
has in its court a celebrated lime-tree, said to have been planted 
by the hands of the Empress Cunigunde eight hundred years 
ago. 

Nuremberg has, from the earliest times, been remarkable for 
its industry, and the inventions of its artisans. The first paper- 
mill in Germany was established there in 1390 ; the first gun- 
carriages were made there, and the first railway in the country 
opened between that city and Furth in 1836. It is now notable 
for its manufacture of wooden clocks and toys, besides jewelry^ 
telescopes, musical and mathematical instruments, which are 
sent to every quarter of the globe. It was founded in 905, 
and at present has a population of some 65,000. It is, on the 
whole, one of the most unique and interesting towns in all 
Germany ; for, more than any other, it has kept the mediaeval 
air and flavor in the midst of countless modern innovations. 



CHAPTER XXXYII. 



AITGSBIJEG AND MUNICH. 




UGSBURG has always interested me from 
its age and history, and I could not resist 
the temptation to stop there on my way to 
Munich, from whicfi it is only thirty-five 
miles distant. On rising ground, in a fer- 
tile plain, at an angle formed by the junc- 
tion of the rivers Lech and Wertach, it has 
a population of some 46,000 or 47,000, the most influential 
citizens being bankers and stock-brokers. After Frankfort, it 
is one of the most influential money markets on the Continent, 
and a number of the financial firms are immensely wealthy. 
In past times the Fugger family, the Rothschilds of their day, 
raised themselves in less than a century from poor weavers to 
the richest merchants in all Europe, and were ennobled, as they 
might well have been, since they often replenished the ex- 
hausted coffers of the Emperors Maximilian I. and Charles V. 
A separate quarter of the city, founded in 1519 by Hans 
Jacob Fugger, still bears the name of Fuggieri, and is enclosed by 
its own gates. A free imperial town in the middle ages, and the 
great centre of commerce between Northern Europe, Italy, and 
the Levant, it reached the height of its power and prosperity 
in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Clara von Delten 
was married to Elector Frederick the Victorious of the Pala- 
tinate, Agnes Bernauer, the lovely daughter of a barber, to 
Duke Albert III. of Bavaria, and Philippina Welser to Arch- 
duke Ferdinand of Austria — all daughters of Augsburgers — 
and Bartholomew Welser, a distant relative of Philippina, fitted 



MUNICH. 299 

out a squadron to take possession of Venezuela, which Charles 
V. had assigned him as collateral for a large loan. 

At Augsburg, Charles held his celebrated Diets ; among 
others that of 1530, at which the Protestant princes presented 
the renowned Augsburg Confession, delivered in the hall of 
the episcopal palace, now a royal residence. The exterior of 
many of the buildings are adorned with curious frescos of the 
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and serve to recall the 
faded splendors of the ancient city, said to have been founded 
by the Roman Emperor Augustus. The Rathaus, Clock 
Tower, and Cathedral are among the most noted and interest- 
ing public buildings. 

Munich is a much finer and more interesting capital than 
is generally supposed. It is not embraced in the usual Conti- 
nental tour, and consequently many fail to visit it, not thinking 
it worth their time or attention. 

Bronzes are among its specialties. Every square has two 
or three bronze statues, and they are excellent, generally. The 
foundery is interesting, and must be visited, of course. They 
keep in the Museum the casts of all the bronzes they have 
made, and nearly every prominent city in Europe and America 
has had one or more. 

The bronze of which Munich is proudest is the Bavaria, a 
colossal figure by Schwan thaler, which stands outside of the 
town, and can be seen for some distance on the plain on which 
the city is built. It represents a woman fifty-five feet high, 
with four lions at her feet, holding a wreath with which she is 
about to crown the country. Bavaria is addicted to lions : lions 
rampant, lions couchant, lions in every form but flight, which 
is said by the latest naturalists to be the animal's favorite exer- 
cise. The Bavaria is the largest bronze casting in the world. 
I am willing to testify that it is the hottest. I went into the in- 
terior by an iron staircase, at noon, and I thought I should melt 
before I could get down. When you visit Munich, don't fail 
to miss the ascent into the statue, unless the thermometer 
happens to be some distance below zero. 

Beer is another specialty of this place, and an excellent 



300 BEER DRINKING. 

specialty it is. It is tlie best in Europe — so cool, fine-flavored 
and thirst-quenching that I should think all Germans would 
make Munich their residence. I believe the thirsty and right- 
eous Teutons who die elsewhere must go there. It is certainly 
the heaven old Gambrinus would have chosen for dry souls. 
I have observed on the faces of all the inhabitants an expres- 




iiEEB DRINKING. 



sion of perfect satisfaction that can arise from nothing but beer. 
If I liked the beverage as they do, I should surrender all other 
things, and drink beer for a living. I am not sure they do not, 
for I have seen the people swallowing it at all hours of the 
day, and each draught they seemed to enjoy more than the 
former. I am convinced that to be fond of beer, and to live in 
Munich, are the two poles of bibulous beings. 



DISAGREEABLE ODORS. 301 

They have curious mugs, which hold nearly half a gallon. I 
supposed they were for a company, and when I was served 
with one I said that my companions were not present. To 
my astonishment I discovered the mug was for one person, 
and I soon saw emerge from the vessels various faces with a 
florid complexion and moist lips, and then disappear again. I 
could not imagine what the men were doing. I thought at 
first they were playing some grotesque national game, which 
I, as a foreigner, could not understand. They were drinking 
beer at the rate of a gallon to the quarter of an horn-. "What 
under the sun do they do with it all ? How can they hold so 
much ? I should suppose they would wake up some morning 
and find themselves breweries. 

They really adore beer, these Germans, and if they had 
their choice they would die like the Duke of Clarence : only 
they would substitute for malmsey — beer, beer, beer. 

The German cities surpass the Italian in odors of the dis- 
agreeable sort, and yet they are generally very clean in out- 
ward appearance — far more so than our own. I can't account 
for it by any known law. In America, when any quarter of a 
city or town is unpleasant to the olfactories, the cause is per- 
ceptible. Over there it is quite otherwise. While walking 
along a very clean street you are suddenly almost overpowered 
by odors the opposite of Sabean. They are peculiarly pene- 
trating, and too prosaic to describe. They appear to rise out 
of the ground, and are so potent I wonder they cannot be 
seen. 

In Munich, where the greatest care is taken of the city, 
some of the localities are supremely unsweet. I found out 
many of ihem after a few days, and gave them the benefit of 
my absence. The first hotel I went to there, though called 
one of the very best, drove me away at once. I should not 
suppose it had been ventilated for ten years. The Germans 
don't perceive this defect. I have spoken to them about it, 
and they thought it a mere fancy. Imagination is strong, I 
know, but not half so strong as the odors of the Fatherland. 
To tell a man that a perfect storm of the vilest smells he can 



802 UNPLEASANT HABITS OF THE PEOPLE. 

conceive of is a fancy, is to ignore the physical and degrade 
the intellectual faculties. 

It has occurred to me that the Germans eat too much un- 
wholesome food, and so phlegmatize themselves with beer that 
they become incapable of distinguishing between azaleas and 
asafetida. The fragrance of what they swallow regulates all 
external fragrances ; just as certain animals have no perception 
of their own balminess. It is well for the Teutonic races if it 
be so, since they live in a region where their peculiarity is 
their self-protection. 

Of one thing I am sure — they are principled against fresh 
air or ventilation of any sort. They will sit in a garden, but 
nothing can induce them to place themselves before an open 
window or the slightest breeze. Their railway carriages have 
two of the spaces on each side permanently closed. So with 
their cafes and restaurants, in which no American can drink or 
dine, in warm weather, without danger of suffocation. Trav- 
elling is almost a torture in summer ; for the very moment a 
bi'eath of air stirs, the persons in the carriage with you close 
the only window, and expel the little oxygen that is in the 
place. In Munich, Berlin, Augsburg, and Vienna I have gone 
out of town daily to some garden where I could get dinner in 
the open air ; for taking a meal in the sweltering atmosphere 
they so much love is not in my, physical possibility. 

Hardly any city in Europe has been mohe improved than 
Munich, during the last fifty years. Its population has 
largely increased, too, being now (170,000 to 175,000) four 
times as great as it was at the beginning of the century. To 
its late King, Ludwig, who had the reputation of being art- 
mad, Munich owes all its splendid buildings and its best streets, 
which he planned and laid out himself. The Ludwig-Strasse 
and Maximilian-Strasse are two of the finest thoroughfares on 
that side of the Atlantic, and their construction must have 
drawn lieavily on the royal treasury, which the King was 
always ready to empty in the cause of art. He imitated 
almost every style of architecture, and the result is, you are 
j'eminded, as you walk about town, of Rome, Florence, and 



EOYAL LOVE FOE ART. 303 

Paris, by the resemblance of the buildings to some of the 
buildings you have seen there. 

The Library, the largest in Europe after Paris, the Feld- 
hernnhalle, the Glyptothek, with its statues, the Siegesthor, or 
Gate of Victory, the Pinakothek, with its fine paintings, the 
Konigsbau, with its Nibelungen frescos, the Propylseum, in 
imitation of the Acropolis, the National Museum, Hall of 
Fame, Bronze Foundery, and Stained Glass Institution, no 
traveller can afford to miss. 

The Opera House, the largest theatre in Germany, is quite 
handsome, and wholly out of proportion, one would think, for 
a city of its size. The late King made, and his successor, 
young Ludwig, makes a great effort to engage the best singers 
and dancers for the theatres ; but the most liberal offers often 
fail to draw the artists from the greater points of attraction, — 
Paris, Vienna, and Berlin. The tuneful and saltatorial tribe 
love money with a Hebrew affection ; but they like great cities, 
rich admirers, delightful dissipations also, and Munich does not 
furnish these to the extent they would desire. Still, some of 
the operas are excellently given, and the audiences are highly 
appreciative and critical. 

Old Ludwig was so much enamoured of Wagner's society, 
that he kept the composer in his palace, and was never happier 
than when listening to the erratic musician's metaphysical 
theories about melody and harmon}^ The people became in- 
censed against Wagner, and at last compelled Ludwig to dis- 
miss his favorite. Wagner was sent out of the city, and 
ordered to make his absence permanent ; but he goes occasion- 
ally to see the son, though he never stays long, for fear of 
again exciting the anger of the populace. The Bavarians have 
no great fondness for artistic monarchs since Ludwig carried 
his art enthusiasm so far, and they feel sorely troubled that the 
son promises to follow in his father's footsteps. The annual 
industrial exhibition began when I was last there, and the 
young King was expected to open it in royal state ; but he ran 
off, purposely to avoid the infliction. He says he hates 
politics, business, and formal ceremonies ; and no doubt he 



304 LOLA MONTEZ IN MUNICH. 

does. But he is passionately devoted to music, sculpture and 
painting, and is perpetually studying tliem. So he will be 
very apt to repeat the paternal follies. 

The Bavarians watch his course with anxiety, and pray in 
their secret souls for a King who does not know the score of 
an opera from a sax-horn. They declare the reigning family 
is monomaniacal about art, and they are not far from correct. 

The little kingdom is so much under the domination of Prus- 
sia just now, that young Ludwig might as well amuse himself 
with fiddlers and dancers as anything else. Bismarck will do 
his thinking for him, and do it far better than the puppet on 
the throne. The young fellow wants to edit a journal advo- 
cating certain reforms in music, which I consider conclusive 
evidence of his mental derangement, '^o man in his sane 
mind, unless reared to the calling, ever wishes to edit a news- 
paper. 

Lola Montez, for a long while the favorite of old Ludwig, 
is well remembered in Munich. According to accounts, she 
carried things with a high hand. The King was infatu- 
ated with her. He did anything she said. She was Privy 
Council, Prime Minister, Minister of Finance, and everything 
else. She threatened the King's advisers, who held different 
opinions from her, with personal chastisement, and made her- 
self so obnoxious that, as in the case of Wagner, the populace 
demanded her removal. Ludwig refused for some time to part 
with her ; but the people at last threatened revolution, and he 
was obliged to yield. It is said the old man fell at her 
feet when she went away, kissed her garments, and wept hke 
a child. He called her a divinity, an angel, and told her she 
was his guardian spirit, his other soul, his spiritual affinity, 
and I know not what besides. The poor old fellow nearly died 
of a broken heart when Lola departed, and it was some months 
before he could be induced to return to his hourly beer, a 
symptom that is usually followed by the dissolution of the 
Bavarian soul. 

Many persons hold that Ludwig' s relation to Lola was 
entirely platonic, and that she had for him only the feeling of 



EXPOSURE OF THE DEAD. 305 

a daughter for a father. Others, of a more secular mind, are 
unwilling to believe this ; for they think the King was very 
Jovelike in his gallantries, and that the adventuress held him 
by his strongest weakness. Lola, in spite of many faults, was 
a good-hearted creature ; but she was not exactly the kind of a 
woman of whom a man in search of vestals would make the 
first choice. 

The Cemetery in Munich, south of the Sendlinger Thor, is 
one of the things to "do," as it excels all the burial places of 
Germany in its monuments, and the taste of its arrange- 
ments. The new Cemetery is surrounded by arcades after the 
style of the Italian Camni Santi. The walks are handsomely 
laid out with shrubbery and flowers, and every effort is made 
to dispel the di*eary feeling commonly associated with death. 

In Munich, as in Frankfort and other German cities, the 
dead are exposed for a certain number of days before burial, to 
prevent any possibility of premature interment. They lie 
with the coffin-lid off, arrayed for the grave, a wire near the 
lifeless hands, so that if they should recover from the stupor or 
trance, which niay have been death's counterfeit, they can pull 
the wire, ringing a bell in the room of the watcher, near at 
hand, and always awake. This exposure is rather ghastly, I 
have seen ten or twelve corpses — old men and women, young 
persons, children and infants — ranged side by side, covered 
with flowers, hideously cadaverous and emaciated, the work of 
decay already begun, and flies covering the blue lips, wasted 
nostrils, and sunken eyes, causing a sickening sense of disgust. 
StiU, the people (especially on Sunday) appeared to enjoy the 
revolting spectacle, crowding against the glass partitions of the 
dead-house, as if they longed for a still closer inspection of the 
repulsive corpses. 



CHAPTEE XXXYIII. 



DRESDEN. 




fK Germany the traveller is struck by two things 
— the absence of babies, and the presence of food. 
Lucina knows there are infants enough in that land 
— child-bearing is a branch of industry always active 
from the Rhine to the Danube — but they are not 
made the partners of their parents' journeys by land 
and sea, as they are in this country. This is a great 
satisfaction to any one who dislikes to be persecuted 
on every train and steamboat by roaring of children who 
appear to have been sent into the world simply to scream. 
There are a great many good babies in the world — I have 
heard ; but they are always kept at home. The Germans 
travel a great deal, and have a great many children ; but they 
keep the two apart. Babies are excellent in their place, wher- 
ever that may be ; but railway cars and steamboats were not 
designed for them until they can be quiet and are old enough 
to behave themselves. 

The Teutonic appetite is something extraordinary. All 
the Germans carry provisions with them, even if they are to 
go but a dozen miles. As soon as the train leaves the station, 
or the boat the pier, out come the bread and butter, sausage, 
ham, and I know not what mysterious pabulum, and the trav- 
ellers fall to with excellent will. Our friends of Fatherland 
must have an active and rapid digestion, for they certainly 
consume as much substantial food in a day as an American 
would in a week. They seem to eat on an average every fifteen 
minutes, and I observed an old fellow one day who in a journey 



THE RIVER ELBE. 307 

of fifty miles lunched seventeen times. And yet there is no 
famine in Germany. What a productive country it must be ! 

Persons who go to Dresden by way of Aussig, should not 
fail to leave the railway at the latter point, and take the 
steamer down the Elbe, one of the finest rivers in Europe, 
thought by many to be superior to the Rhine. 

I was very agreeably disappointed in the Elbe, though I 
fancied I knew the character of the stream from the accounts 
I had had of it. The river recalls the Hudson ; but many 
parts of it are grander and more peculiar. It runs through the 
region known for a century past as Saxon Switzerland, a dis- 
trict formed by the mountains of Meissen, and famous for its 
singularly-shaped rocks. 

The picturesque country extends from the Bohemian fron- 
tier to Liebenthal, and from the Falkenberg to the Schuelberg, 
twenty-three miles each way. The most effectual method of 
seeing the region is on foot ; but as Americans have little fond- 
ness for walking when they can ride, the majority will be con- 
tent to look at it from the deck of a boat. As the mountains 
are intersected by the Elbe, the traveller by water can get a 
very correct idea of the beauty of the region between Pirna 
and Leitmeritz. 

The yellow sandstone of which the mountains are com- 
posed is usually cleft into rectangular forms resembling dice. 
The action of the water has made deep gullies and fissures, and 
torrents have overthrown vast masses of rock, giving to the 
banks a sublimely chaotic semblance. Some of the rocky 
columns are so tall and slender that they may well be termed 
needles. They convey the impression of great insecurity, and 
you wonder at times that they don't fall down over your head. 
Other columns are made up of blunted cones heaped one upon 
another, between whose crevices pines, firs, and other trees 
grow, as if they took root in the solid rock. 

Several magnificent gorges are on the route. One of them, 
the Ultewalter Grund, is a mile long, and so narrow and deep 
that the sun's rays never reach many parts of it. There are 
beautiful grottos, too, and handsome wooded valleys with rocks 



308 A SUMMER PALACE. 

overhanging them, and frowning down as if in envy of their 
pleasantness. Many of the rocks bear striking resemblances to 
haystacks, chimneys, giants' heads, turrets and battlements, 
and are sometimes extremely grotesque. 

The Bastei, or Bastions, are several peaks rising precipi- 
tously from the Elbe to a height of nearly a thousand feet. 
The view from the summit is imposing. It includes different 
mountains, wooded gorges, rocky galleries, fertile valleys, and 
the windings of the river for miles. The celebrated Konig- 
stein is on the Elbe, and believed, as a number of other places 
are, to be the strongest fortress after Gibraltar on the Conti- 
nent. It is at present occupied by a Prussian garrison, and is 
also a State prison. The archives and treasures of Dresden 
have been transferred there for security several times during 
war. 

The whole region is connected with historical events, and 
innumerable have been the struggles for mastery among the 
defiles and gorges. During the Seven Ye&rs War the Saxon 
Switzerland was an active theatre of operations. The Lilien- 
stein, the highest of the twelve isolated peaks of the region, 
was ascended by Augustus the Strong in 1T08. At the base 
of the mountain Frederic the Great surrounded the Saxon 
army, and compelled it to surrender, at the beginning of the 
seven years contest. 

On the right bank of the Elbe, at Pillnitz, is the summer 
palace of the King of Saxony, which is in the Japanese style, 
and surrounded by handsome though fantastic gardens. It is 
a singular-looking residence, and though called a palace, ap- 
pears more like a church, with its tall spire and clock. 

Johannes is said to be a good-hearted old fellow, who feels 
more interest in literature than in royalty. He has translated 
the "Divina Commedia," and is delighted with the praise 
bestowed npon his work. Since Frederic the Great wrote 
and printed books, the crowned heads of Germany have had an 
ambition in the same direction. Frederic coveted versatility, 
and he had it to a remarkable degree. Wooing the muses was 
not his forte, though. He was the best soldier and the worst 
poet of his time. 



PICTURE-GALLERY. 309 

Dresden is one of the most agreeable cities in Germany, 
Though it contains less than a hundred and fifty thousand 
people, it has numerous art collections and museums, and a fine 
library. It has been a favorite place for Americans to study, 
and is still. During winter there are five or six hundred of 
our countrymen there. Some of them live in Dresden be- 
cause it is economical. It is growing less and less so, for 
wherever the Americans congregate, prices are certain to ad- 
vance. 

The city is admirably situated on the river; has many 
public squares, gardens, and promenades. The Briilil Terrace 
is a beautiful walk, and the Belvedere Gardens at the upper 
end are the pleasantest resort in town. There are excellent 
concerts there every evening, and breakfast or dinner, over- 
looking the Elbe and the Neustadt, lends an esthetic quality 
to the appetite. 

The Picture-Gallery is justly celebrated. It contains the 
Madonna di San Sisto — the best of Rafiaelle's Virgin s, pur- 
chased over a century since for $100,000. In this painting, 
the Madonna's face is more spiritual and expressive than in 
any other. It has a sadness, a sweetness, and an air of pensive 
resignation you look for in vain in the Kaffaelles you see else- 
where. Notwithstanding the artist's great reputation, I don't 
like his Madonnas. The Delia Seggiola at Rome has a re- 
markably pretty face. The features are regular, almost fault- 
less, but the Holy Mother might be a comely little wife, fond- 
ling her first-born, for all the picture savs to the contrary. 
Others of his Madonnas are thin, flat, and hard, in the manner 
of his master, Perrugino. The eyes of all of them are too far 
apart, and the nose at the upper end is too thick for beauty. 

In the San Sisto the Christ-child looks startled and unnatu- 
ral — not a whit divine. As to the Pope, he is most unspiritual 
in appearance ; has an Irish cast of countenance, and in spite 
of the halo about his head, conveys the notion that he has been 
drinking over night, and has gotten up without his morning 
cocktail. St. Barbara might be the copy of a fashion-plate, or 
a lackadaisical young woman dressed for the opera. One of 



310 THE GREEN VAULT. 

the cherubim is capital, and the other is cross-eyed. So the 
great picture does not meet the ideal at all. 

For Holbein's Maria, so much praised, I have no admira- 
tion. The Virgin has a stiif, staring look, and a forehead that 
might have been made for phrenological effect. The face has 
a Chinese insipidity, and the figure is not graceful. The kneel- 
ing Burgomaster is good, and the folded carpet exquisite. 
' One of the paintings represents the Yirgin and child, and 
Lucrezia Borgia and her husband kneeling before them, in the 
act of prayer. Lucrezia resembles a washed-out blonde, and is 
entirely without character. There is something droll in con- 
necting Lucrezia and her lord with the Madonna and Jesus. 
I believe the lady has been made angelic of late by certain 
writers, but she must have been rather free and fast, even for 
her time. 

Many of the Domenichinos, Guidos, Correggios and Guer- 
cinos are very good, and four of Paolo Yeronese's large paint- 
ings are among the best of his I have seen. Some of the 
German and Flemish pictures are fine, and others have nothing 
to recommend them but their age. A few of Rubens' best 
works are in the gallery, but the want of firmness, and the con- 
fusion of outline, which seem to me his defects, are palpable 
in his pictures. He was a great artist, but he must have 
wrought carelessly, or have neglected to finish thoroughly what 
he began so earnestly. 

The Green Vault, as the royal treasury is styled, from the 
color of the walls of the different cabinets, is one of the richest 
on the Continent. The carvings, in ivory and bronze, the 
mosaics, the vessels of jasper, agate, and chalcedony, and fig- 
ures in gold and enamel, are worth hours of study. The 
Fall of Lucifer and his Angels is a remarkable work, being 
cut out of a piece of solid ivory. Though not sixteen inches 
high, it contains ninety-two figures of exquisite carving, which 
will bear the minutest inspection. One of the finest works, 
by Dinglinger (he has been justly called the Saxon Benvenuto 
Cellini), is The Court of Aurungzebe, representing the Mon- 
arch on his throne at Delhi, surrounded by his guards and 



SPLENDID DIAMOND COLLECTION. 311 

courtiers. All the figures, a hundred and thirty-two in num- 
ber, are of gold and enamel. It is the prettiest and most 
elaborate toy I remember to have seen, and would be a fit 
present for a royal baby, for whom it may have been intended 
— I use "royal" in its broad sense, and I am sure every 
mother, particularly if she be a new mother, will deem her 
infant the royalest of all. What an infinite number of Au- 
rungzebe Courts would be required if they were to be given 
to the finest baby in the world, and their doting mammas were 
to be made the judges ! Ten generations of Dinglingers would 
be needed to supply the overwhelming demand. 

The diamond collection in the Green Yault is the finest in 
Europe. Most of the jewels belonged to Augustus the Strong, 
King of Poland, a sturdy fellow, who is honored with statues 
there, and who seems, from his history, to have had a habit 
of taking things generally, whether they were women or cas- 
tles. He might have won many of the gentler sex with his 
jewels, if it be true that the feminine heart is attracted to dia- 
monds as the moth to the candle. 

There are in the carefully-locked cabinet, diamond buckles, 
diamond-hilted swords, diamond-studded scabbards, diamond 
epaulettes, and diamond decorations of various kinds. There 
are splendid necklaces, too, one of which contains fifty very 
large and beautiful stones, the smallest of which must be worth 
$50,000. The diamonds in the Yault are admirably cut and 
very rare, some of them being yellow, claret-color, and green, 
which are more valuable than the hueless ones. The entire 
collection must be worth at least $5,000,000 or $6,000,000, 
perhaps $10,000,000 ; but, of course, it is not to be purchased. 
Since the Esterhazy jewels have been disposed of, no court in 
Europe can show such a collection as that at Dresden. 

The city is so rich in treasures of art and science, that it is 
often called the German Florence. The handsome Opera 
House, capable of seating 8,000 persons, was burned down 
recently, but is now rebuilding. The suburbs of the town are 
very picturesque. If I had to live in any German, city, I 
should select Dresden. 




CHAPTER XXXIX. 

BERLIN. 

ERLIN, though one of the largest and most 
important, is one of the least imposing and 
interesting capitals in Europe. It is growing 
very rapidly, and must have at present nearly, 
if not quite, 700,000 people. Two centuries ago it 
was of small importance, consisting of a number of 
villages, which have now grown into each other, and 
form the different quarters of the city. It received its 
first important improvement from the great Elector, 
Frederic William, who planted the Unter den Linden ; but 
it never began to look like a capital until Frederic the Great 
enclosed a large space within the walls, and built upon it in 
anticipation of a future growth. 

The unity of Germany with the seat of the Empire at 
Berlin, and the natural results of the late war with France, 
will give a new stimulus to the city, and benefit it greatly. In 
a few years it will be, if it is not now, the largest capital on 
the Continent, Paris excepted ; for the only capitals approach- 
ing it are Vienna, ISTaples, and St. Petersburg, omitting Con- 
stantinople, which, properly speaking, is Eastern in its charac- 
ter. The Germans, at least many of them, believe it will take 
the place of Paris ; but it never will, and never can. With 
all their sterling and sturdy qualities, their earnest purpose and 
power of accomplishment, they cannot make Berlin the centre 
of civilization, the metropolis of refinement, elegance, and art. 
At least for generations there can be but one Paris, which is 
the outgrowth of French influences and French character, and 



SITUATION OF THE CITY. 313 

incapable of reproduction on German soil, or under German 
institutions. 

Berlin is situated on a great sterile plain, on both sides of the 
river Spree, nothing like scenery in or about it. The climate 
is decidedly disagreeable, damp, and chilly in the spring ; hot 
and sultry in midsummer ; raw and wet in the autumn, and 
very bleak and cold in the winter. Probably no European 
capital, Madrid always excepted, is so unpleasant, meteorologi- 
cally, as Berlin ; and the fine sand that often blows from the 
sun'ounding plain, something after the manner of San Fran- 
cisco, does not add to the joys of the season. 

The best part of the city — indeed, the only part worth at- 
tention — is in the Unter den Linden, between the Royal Palace 
and the Brandenburg Gate. In that quarter are the Old and 
!New Museums, the Opera House, the Library, the University, 
the famous statue of Frederic the Great, and other bronzes of 
merit, the principal collections, the leading hotels, and the njost 
fashionable shops. Many of the other streets, as Friedrich and 
Wilhelm, are well built ; but they have no handsome architect- 
ure, and contain nothing remarkable. The city is regularly laid 
out for the most part; but as the shops and dwellings are 
much alike, it presents a monotonous appearance. Berlin 
is a sort of Prussian Philadelphia — more metropolitan, of 
course, than the Pennsylvanian checker-board — or an expanded 
Chicago, You can see all you want of it in three of four days 
(I tarried there eight or ten), and, once quitting it, it holds no 
new charm to bring you back. I saw it without emotion : I 
left it without regret. 

The Unter den Linden I had heard much of. I expected 
to find it handsomely laid out, like the Champs Ely sees, or the 
Yilla Peale. I was sure it had walks, and flowers, and foun- 
tains, if nothing more. Judge of my surprise when I saw 
nothing but rows of rambling, broken, scraggy lindens, in a 
bare rectangle that a little rain converts into a mire. The 
place is unsightly, and the appearance of the street would be 
much improved if the trees were cut down. The government 
does not believe in spending money for ornamental purposes, 



314 COLLECTION OF PICTURES. 

and is wise in its economy ; but I am of opinion that a few 
thousand dollars invested in the Unter den Linden would be 
judicious. 

The Museums contain very good collections, and would be 
interesting to persons who had not visited the other great capi- 
tals. The buildings are extremely fine, and much of the fres- 
coing on the outside and inside is admirable. 

The collection of pictures is large, but not choice, though 
many of the old German and Flemish paintings are curious. 
The " gem " of the latter pictures, as it is called, representing 
burgomasters and burgomasters' wives as saints kneeling before 
the Virgin, is, to my taste, as valuable as a second-hand grave- 
stone. There are in the gallery six of the gems which formerly 
adorned the altar-piece of the Ghent Cathedral. There were 
thirteen originally ; but one has been lost, and the other six 
were stolen. If the thief can be induced to steal the remaining 
half dozen, he should be paid liberally ; for to be found carry- 
ing off such things as these would ruin a man's reputation for 
taste. What prompts catalogue-makers to praise as great works 
of art what no one capable of distinguishing between a sign- 
board and a Spagnoletto would have on any terms ? 

The Italian pictures, though some are by Kaffaelle, Cor- 
reggio, Titian, Domenichino, and Guido, seem poor after one 
has become familiar with the galleries of Rome and Florence, 
While in the New Museum I noticed quite a crowd before one 
painting, and, thinking it something rare, I added myself to 
the group. I saw that it was a large painting by Giordano, 
representing (I quote the catalogue) " Two Lovers Discovered 
by an Old Woman." The lovers seemed to be suffering ex- 
cessively from a clothes famine. The youth looked despond- 
ent ; but the nymph seemed extremely hopeful ; for she was 
both the wooer and the won. A number of women were 
gazing at it with all their eyes, and I could not help overhear- 
ing one of them say in German : " That is very natural," as 
she laughed and turned away. In our country no woman 
would pretend to see such a picture in public ; but we are 
more modest than those barbarous Europeans, who hold that 
what is natural is not necessarily indecent. 



THE BALLET. 315 

The collection of casts, antiques, bronzes, vases, carvings in 
wood, silver, and ivory, is large and varied ; but it is much the 
same one sees all over Europe. Who cares for casts of the 
Yenus, Apollo, Laocoon, "Wrestlers, Discus-Thrower, and the 
Grinder, when he knows every atom of the originals ? Then 
there are the unfailing ancient relics and Etruscan vases. 
Every museum, from London to Naples, and Paris to Pesth, is 
filled with them. After one has done London and Paris, Italy 
and Switzerland, the Rhine and Hombourg, his travels lead 
him to repetitions. Then he has had life, art, nature, society, 
and fashion, which include most of what we feel interest 
in. If one hungers after new places, he may pass his entire 
time in travel. If he seeks only the typical, his wanderings 
need not be far. 

The ballet of Berlin has a wide reputation ; and as a 
grand spectacle was advertised at the Opera House, I went to 
it. The audience was large, and delighted. The men and 
women applauded enthusiastically, and pronounced the enter- 
tainment one of the best the city had ever had. But it really 
was of little merit. The scenes, costumes, effects and ma- 
chinery were far inferior to what we have at home, and were 
completely eclipsed by the "Black Crook" and "White 
Fawn." The dancing was poor. Only one of the women had 
skill and grace, and she in no remarkable degree. The ballet 
was more modest and decorous than it is in London, Paris, Na- 
ples, or New York, which it might easily be without accusation 
of prudery. The Opera House itself is rather plain, not equal 
to the opera houses in New York, Philadelphia or Chicago. 

The statue of Frederic the Great, by Ranch, I believe, is 
the finest bronze in Europe. The horse of the King is admir- 
able. You see the fire, the quivering nerves, the flashing eye, 
the curbed spirit of the noble animal through the metal. He 
seems as if he would leap from the pedestal every moment. 
He might neigh without surprising you, so life-like is he. 
The figures of Frederic and his officers below are admirable. 
You can study their character in their faces. Each has an in- 
dividuality ; each is a genuine man. 



316 PARKS AND GARDENS. 

The Tiergarten, the park and drive of Berlin, is just be- 
yond the Brandenburg Gate, and about two or three miles 
long. It is pleasant, for it contains a number of natural trees 
and shady walks, but it is not laid out with any care or ex- 
pense. It is full of public resorts, such as shooting galleries, 
ten-pin alleys (a favorite amusement with the Germans), drink- 
ing-halls, cheap shows, and beer-gardens. 

The largest and best of the gardens is Kroll's, dignified by 
the name of an " establishment," where there is a theatre, a 
concert-room, and a variety of entertainments. When 
lighted in the evening it looks brilliant, and is gorgeous for a 
German resort. They have good music and bad beer there 
every night, and hundreds of the citizens visit it, and derive 
more satisfaction from spending a few groschen than a Yan- 
kee would in wasting a hundred dollars. 

'I cannot understand how the Continentalists get so much 
out of so little. Contentment is more a thing of temperament, 
than circumstance, and our people have not the secret. We 
make a great deal of noise, and are very extravagant and de- 
monstrative in our pleasures, but after all, we are the most 
melancholy nation under the sun. 

The Berlin hotels I have heard highly praised ; but they 
are not such as I could conscientiously recommend. In accord- 
ance with my rule, I went to the best — at least the highest 
priced — and did not like it. I changed to two others — one of 
them, the St. Petersburg, where General Yon Moltke boards 
when at home — and they were no more satisfactory. The 
truth is, not a really excellent public house, judging by the 
American standard, is to be found in all Germany ; but Teu- 
tonic tastes and notions of luxury are very difi:erent from ours. 
When the Germans are delighted, we carp and complain. 

The city is surrounded by a wall, and entered by sixteen 
gates, the chief of which, the Brandenburg, is of great size, 
surmounted by a bronze figure of Victory in a car drawn by 
four horses, excellently done. Berlin is ten or twelve miles in 
circumference, and occupies some seven thousand acres. Its 
principal divisions are Berlin proper ; old and new Cologne, 



SELF-INFLATION. 3X7 

on the Spree ; Louisenstadt, on the south ; Friedrichstadt, on 
the southwest; Friedrichswerden, between old and new 
Cologne and Friedrichstadt ; Neustadt, between Friedrichstadt 
and the Spree ; Friedrich Wilhelmstadt (built in 1828), and 
the suburbs of Stralhau, Spandau, Konigstadt, Oranienburg 
and Potsdam. The Spree (an insignificant stream), and its 
branches, are crossed by forty bridges, notable among them 
the Long Bridge, with an equestrian statue of the great 
Elector Frederic William ; the Palace Bridge, with groups of 
heroes in marble, and Frederic's Bridge, made of iron, and 
haying eight arches. ^ 

Since their great military successes, the Prussians are not as 
agreeable as they used to be. Without the formal and external 
politeness of the Latin races, their newly-acquired glory, and 
their naturally increased self-love have rendered them incKned 
at times to swagger and be insolent. When quite accus^ 
tomed to then* greatness, they will tone down, and be more 
self-contained. They are brave, and strong, and great, as are 
all the Germans, and have achieved so much in art, literature, 
science, and arms, that we can easily forgive their excessive 
self-felicitation in the early consciousness and flush of their 
splendid triumphs. 




CHAPTER XL. 

BISMARCK. 

)ARL OTTO VOK BISMARCK, born at 
Schoenhausen, April 1, 1814, belongs to a 
noble and ancient family, which dates back to 
the chieftains of a Slavic tribe. His mother 
is said to have been a very superior woman, 
much above her husband in understanding, culture, 
and character. She was ambitious, too ; and to her 
he owes the peculiar training which has had so much 
to do with his power and fame. He was educated at 
Gottingen, Griefswald, and Berlin, and, as a student, was 
noted for his sad scrapes and wild orgies. Though he often 
studied hard, and developed talents of a high order, he was 
constantly involved in some sort of trouble. To-day it was a 
drinking bout ; to-morrow, a horse ridden to death ; Monday 
it was a quarrel ; Tuesday, an unfortunate gallantry ; and 
Wednesday, a duel. In spite of his high spirits and rollicking 
pleasures, he was subject to fits of melancholy, during which 
he became so morose and irritable that his classmates stood in 
fear of, and kept away from him. He was so variable in his 
moods, and so extreme in his feelings, that he was often 
charged with insanity. He left college with anything but a 
reputation for good morals, and yet he soon after became en- 
amoured of a modest and worthy maiden, Fraulein Yon Putz- 
kammer, who returned his affection with all the ardor of her 
nature. Her parents did not regard him as a very desirable 
son-in-law ; but he wooed their daughter with such energy 
and audacity that they could not refuse him her hand. He 



HIS SUCCESS AS A DIPLOMATIST. 319 

first entered upon a military career, having joined tlie light 
infantry, and afterward becoming a lieutenant in the land- 
wehr. He soon discovered, however, and his friends did also, 
that he was better adapted to politics than the army. He was 
chosen member of the Diet of the Province of Saxony, in 
1846 ; and in the following year, of the General Diet, where 
he made himself known by his skill in argument, and the 
boldness and brilliancy of his speeches. He contended, it is 
said, that all the large cities should be swept from the surface 
of the earth, because they are the centres of democracy and 
of constitutional law, and his subsequent conduct does not 
seem to have modified his extreme views. 

Bismarck's diplomatic career dates from 1851. His course 
in the second chamber of Parliament had attracted the atten- 
tion of King Frederic William lY., and the legation of Frank- 
fort was at that time so delicate and difficult a position that 
it was entrusted to his charge. A rising man and a royal favo- 
rite, he was received somewhat coldly in the city to which he 
had been appointed, but was not long in exacting courtesy and 
inspiring esteem from all with whom he came in contact. As 
an instance of his mode of dealing with men, this anecdote is 
told : Bismarck, on arrival, made a visit of ceremony to Count 
Thun, a prominent official. The Count, upon the entrance of 
the diplomate, neither rose from his seat nor offered one to his 
visitor, but sat in a state of supreme indifference, blowing 
clouds of smoke from his cigar. Bismarck, without seeming 
to notice the rudeness, took a cigar from his own pocket, and, 
politely asking the Count for a light, drew up a chair, and, 
sitting down without invitation, assumed the most nonchalant 
air imaginable. He then began to patronize the nobleman in 
a manner the latter could not fail to perceive, but could find 
no pretence to resent. 

Bismarck regarded Austria, from the beginning of his 
career, as the antagonist of Prussia, and as a source of danger 
to Germany. Consequently, he was sent, in 1852, to Yienna, 
where he proved a constant adversary to Count Rechberg, and 
a perpetual thwarter of all his plans. Six years later, a cele- 



320 GERMAN UNITY A FIXED IDEA. 

brated pamphlet, "Prussia and the Italian Question," was 
published anonymously ; but the authorship was attributed to 
Bismarck, for the reason that it advocated the policy he had 
always sustained. The writer of the brochure, recalling the 
old antagonism of Prussia and Austria, supported, with much 
ability and zeal, the idea of a triple alliance between France, 
Prussia, and Russia, as a means of insuring, beyond question, 
German unity by the supremacy of Prussia. 

Early in 1859, Bismarck was appointed ambassador to St. 
Petersburg. He remained there for three years, gaining the 
esteem and confidence of the Czar, who conferred upon him 
the order of St. Alexander I^ewski. The Empress mother re- 
ceived him with particular marks of friendship, and made him 
almost a member of the imperial family. At the Russian capi- 
tal, for the first time, his robust constitution yielded to disease. 
He suffered particularly from infiammatory rhemnatism, which 
reduced him to a state of complete helplessness, and made him 
look like the ghost of his former self. His serious ill health 
forced him to ask leave of absence, and he returned home with 
little hope of ultimate recovery. So anxious was he, how- 
ever, to go back to Russia, that he set out from Berlin before 
he was convalescent, and, falling dangerously ill on the jour- 
ney, was forced to surrender his mission. 

As soon as fully recovered, he was sent as ambassador to 
Paris, his appointment having been very favorably received, 
both by his own government and that of France. He received 
from ISTapoleon the Cross of the Legion of Honor, but had 
been in his new position only a short time when the dissen- 
sions in the Prussian Parliament, on account of the army 
budget, caused him to be recalled, and to be chosen President 
of the Council of Ministers, with the two portfolios of the 
house of the King and of Foreign Affairs. The situation was 
a very grave one. He was not able, great as were his efforts, 
to overcome the resistance of the Chamber of Deputies, which 
was opposed to the military reorganization, because its ten- 
dency was to weaken the landwehr. The budget was rejected 
by the Deputies, and Bismarck, in the name of the King, dis- 




COUNT OTTO VON BISMARCK. 



THE BULLY OF EUROPE. 321 

solved the Chamber, and proceeded with great severity against 
the persons and journals opposed to his official conduct. lie 
protested, early in 1863, against the address the Deputies had 
presented to the King, accusing him of violating the con- 
stitution. In nothing has he shown himself to be on the side 
of, or in sympathy with, the people. He is a born aristocrat in 
the sense in which the word is used abroad — an advocate of 
power, and privilege, and caste, in opposition to the popular 
will, and the rights and elevation of the masses. "Wherever 
there has been a contest between the throne and its subjects, 
Bismarck has been the supporter of the throne ; and, though 
he has been admired and praised by his countrymen for his 
extraordinary ability and success, he has ever arrayed himself 
against the advance of republican principles and liberal ideas. 
From his first entry into pubHc life he has bent his mind to 
the establishment of German unity. To this end he made an 
mijust and aggressive war, with the aid of Austria, against 
poor little Denmark, exhibiting to the civilized world the spec- 
tacle of two strong, national bullies falling upon a weak and 
unoffending neighbor, and robbing him under the high-sound- 
ing pretext of the necessity of homogeneity. Austria — to her 
credit be it said — was very unwilling to enter into the alliance, 
and would not have done so, had she not been dragooned into 
it by Bismarck, who certainly deserves the name of the hector 
and bully of Europe. 

Ko sooner was the Danish spoliation complete, than Bis- 
marck turned his attention to Austria ; made w^ar upon her, 
in a few weeks drove her armies on every field, and placed her 
in the position of an humble and abject suppliant. The House 
of Hapsburg had always been so indolent and haughty, that 
little sympathy was wasted upon it. Prussia's injustice was 
forgotten in the satisfaction felt at Austria's abasement. The 
battle of Sadowa closed the contest ; but it would have gone 
on to Austria's greater discomfiture and deeper humiliation, if 
France had not interfered, and Bismarck had not been alarmed 
at the prospect of a new and formidable alliance against his 
government. Louis Napoleon, in a speech to the French 
21 



322 REVENGE UPON NAPOLEON. 

Chambers, declared with much truth: "I have arrested the 
conqueror at the gates of Yienna." 

Bismarck has now revenged himself upon Louis Napoleon 
by upsetting his throne and undoing his Empire. For years 
he had regarded Napoleon as his most formidable rival — the 
only man able to hold his ambitious designs in check. Having 
broken the power of his rival, and hurled him prostrate in the 
dust, he naturally rejoices in the undisputed mastership of the 
Continental field. 

The Minister of "William I., though great, cannot be called 
handsome. He is so remarkable, however, in appearance, that 
to see him once is to remember him. His features are large and 
irregular, and his strikingly strong face is deeply marked and 
furrowed by lines. He is tall, heavy-set, raw-boned. His 
eyes are deep and penetrating, his nose defiant, and his mouth 
a type of firmness. Naturally haughty and passionate, he has 
learned the diplomatic need of self-control, and can, when there 
is occasion, be as bland and courteous as if he revered other 
opinions than his own. 





CHAPTER XLI. 

POTSDAM. 

I HE famous city of Potsdam, I should sup- 
pose, might have been called after the pots 
or tiles that cover the roofs, though red tiles 
mark most of the houses throughout North- 
ern Germany. Potsdam is quite imposing, 
with its domes and spires, and fine buildings, 
and makes a more favorable impression through the eye than 
Berhn itself. 

Potsdam, as everybody knows, was the favorite residence 
of Frederic II., third king of Prussia, distinguished in history 
as Frederic the Great. To him it owes its metropolitan ap- 
pearance and handsomest structures. He is buried in a large 
church; an elaborate but not showy monument, marking 
his grave. Frederic was a philosopher, and regarded death 
very rationally, neither to be sought nor avoided, save for suf- 
ficient reason. But he was one of the men who would have 
liked to live longer, if he could have preserved his youth and 
his faculties. He had so many capacities, such an insatiable 
ambition, such grand schemes, and such little weaknesses, such 
a perfect lust for dominion, such a number of unfulfilled pm*- 
poses, that centuries of existence would have been sweet to 
him. 

If the world to come be purely spiritual, I can't conceive 
how Frederic can be satisfied there ; for he, even more than 
Bonaparte, was a secular spirit, having all his being through a 
gratified vanity, and a mad passion for power. It would de- 
light his soul to revisit this planet and see what a name and 



324 FREDERIC THE GREAT. 

fame he left behind : how Prussia had become all Germany ; 
how its present is associated with him and his, and how his 
great qualities have been remembered and exaggerated, and 
his wretchedly small ones forgotten. 

Some may think it a compensation he died too soon to 
read Carlyle's work ; but the German-English apotheosis by 
the one-sided Scotchman would have charmed Frederic be- 
yond measure. He would have written a letter, in limping 
French, to the author, and have invited him to Potsdam. 
Carlyle would not have gone, and the royal tyrant would have 
thrown him into prison for disobedience of orders. 

I suspect Frederic would set Bismarck aside if he were to 
come again, for the minister would not be quite as necessary 
to him as to kaiser William. But as there are no return 
tickets from the station where the great king and little man 
got oif, he no doubt approves of Bismarck's rule during his 
own protracted absence. 

Comparatively few persons remember that Frederic, the 
great-great-uncle of the present monarch, sympathized with us 
in our early struggle with England ; that he levied the same 
tax upon the Hessians the British hired to make war upon the 
America,n colonies, when they passed through his dominions, 
that he did upon cattle bought and sold ; and that he sent a 
eword to George Washington, with the words: "From the 
oldest general in the world to the greatest." 

Frederic, though he wrote thirty or forty volumes of prose 
and verse in French, which he always preferred to German, he 
never learned to spell or write French correctly. With all his 
power and wealth, he had during the latter years of his life 
but one good suit of clothes, and when he died, having no de- 
cent shirt to be buried in, one was borrowed for the purpose 
from his valet de chamhre. 

]^o traveller who visits Berlin should neglect Potsdam. 
Many do so, and regret it afterward. There is more to see 
than in the capital, and a day or two passed in the town gives 
an insight into one of the most curious and inconsistent char- 
acters history has furnished. Frederic was a striking instance 



NOTED PALACES. 325 

of development. He expanded with circumstcance and rose 
with the occasion. He ran away in terror from his first battle, 
and yet became one of the most courageous of men. Think 
of him in action with a copy of his bad verses in one pocket 
and a phial of poison in the other, determined, in the event of 
losing his cause, to destroy himself ! 

The different palaces are the chief attraction, and every 
tourist inspects them as a matter of duty. There are Baals- 
berg, the summer residence of the reigning king ; the Marble 
Palace, belonging to the crown prince ; the New Palace, occu- 
pied by Frederic the Great (called new because erected after 
Sans Souci) ; Sans Souci itself, and the Orangery. 

Baalsberg I went all through, and think it the most cheer- 
ful royal chateau in Europe. It looks like a place to live in .; 
has an air of comfort, peace, and rest. It is not as the Eng- 
lish, French and Italian palaces are, all color, gilt and embroid- 
ery, but no more fit for a dwelling than a gown of gold for a 
nightrobe. The chateau is plainly furnished, but in excellent 
taste ; has some pretty pictures, bronzes and marbles, a number 
of books (Frederic's complete works among them) — of course 
they are in all the Prussian palaces — and^ every convenience 
one would desire. The grounds about it are beautifully laid 
out. The balconies command fine views, and the situation, 
near the Havel, which expands in the immediate neighbor- 
hood into a lake, is delightful. Baalsberg is just such a place 
as a gentleman of taste and means would like to own. The 
cabinets, bed-chambers, music and reception rooms, are all in 
perfect harmony, and so inviting one dislikes to quit them. 

The Marble Palace, much more brick than marble, by the 
bye, is rather old-fashioned, and some of its furniture well 
worn; but still it is so Unpretending and easy, that it is 
preferable to all the satin and gilt of Versailles and Windsor 
Castle. The marbles (modem) are excellent, and tastefully 
arranged. 

At Potsdam I was reminded of how difficult it is to elicit 
any infoiTnation from a stupid person. I admired a Yenus 
particularly, and inquired of the custodian the name of the 



326 A MODEL OF STUPIDITY. ^ 

sculptor. I am sure my German was correct, as far as it went, 
which may be the reason he did not understand clearly, and 
the dialogue ran very much in this wise : 

" Who carved that Yenus yonder ? " 

" Yes ; that is Yenus." 

" I know that very well ; but who carved it ; who was the 
sculptor, the artist, that made it?" 

" O yes, it was made." 

" Of course it was made ; you don't suppose I thought it 
grew. What is the name of the maker of that statue of 
Yenus ? " 

"Yes, sir; that is so." 

(After a few minutes necessary to collect patience, and in 
the blandest tones), " Your remark is very correct ; but will you 
be kind enough to tell me who carved, cut, made this marble 
(putting my hand on it) statue of Yenus ? " 

" Certainly, sir (a ray of what I conceived to be intelli- 
gence falling at last upon his benighted mind) ; that is from 
Rome ! " 

" But you don't understand me, my good fellow." 

" O yes ; that i%good, very good." 

"Wait a moment. Try to tell me, if you please, what 
sculptor, artist, made this statue here on which my hand rests." 

" O yes ; that pleases everybody. It is very nice." 

" But who made it ? " (And I imitated the motion of 
chiselling in the completest manner.) " Who did like this ? " 

"Yes, yes, yes; that is Yenus." 

I saw the fellow was going back to the starting point ; that 
I had circumnavigated the sphere of his intelligence, and that 
there were no undiscovered lands of perception in his mental 
world. I threw up the white flag, and marched on in silence. 
I had been desirous to know who made the statue ; but after 
meeting the custodian, I wondered who the devil made him — 
the latter work was unquestionably a failure. 

The New Palace, also in the centre of beautiful grounds, has 
a crystal saloon, which is as original as beautiful. The walls 
are made of shells, crystals, agate, chalcedony, onyx, amethyst, 



FREDERIC'' S APARTMENTS. 327 

topaz, and other stones. They are fastened by stucco, and 
framed in figures like frescos. One of the largest amethysts 
known was found by Humboldt, and presented to the late 
Frederic William lY., who placed it in the corner of a 
column. The size of the amethyst must be eight or ten 
inches in diameter. "When the saloon is lighted at night the 
effect is beautiful. It glitters like a gigantic cluster diamond, 
and is perfectly dazzling. 

The apartments Frederic occupied are kept very nearly in 
the order in which he left them ; much of the old furniture re- 
maining. He was greatly inclined to this palace, and after the 
close of the Seven Years "War, spent vast sums in decorating 
and fitting it up to suit his taste. His inkstands, pens, auto- 
graph letters, some of his sketches and verses are preserved. 
His private theatre, too, of which he was so fond, stands un- 
changed, except the new decorations. There Yoltaire's plays 
were performed, and some of the King's, also. There many of 
the cleverest men of his time — Frederic had a weakness for 
persons of genius — have sat and applauded, and criticised. In 
the other apartments splendid fetes were given ; Yoltaire 
sitting at the monarch's right hand, and keeping Frederic in 
the finest spirits by the sallies of his caustic wit. Charming 
women, now forgotten, drank wine and flirted at the royal 
board. In the balboom many a splendid company assembled, 
and the hours were ehased away with voluptuous dissipation 
and luxurious revelry. 

"While roaming through the Palace, I could not forget the 
silly quarrels of Frederic and Yoltaire, after their long inti- 
macy. They wrangled over the merest trifles; had high 
words about bits of sugar and fragments of candles, and out- 
did vulgar old women in their petty criminations and recrimi- 
nations. They are on a level now ; but if they can get near 
each other in the spirit-land, they will have their likings and 
dislikings, their sympathies and antipathies, over and over 
again, through all eternity. 

The Orangery (so called, I presume, because it has a num- 
ber of orange-trees planted in tubs and set in the summer 



328 ' SANS SOUCI. 

sunshine), is a very attractive place, and is intended for a gal- 
lery of art. Good copies of all of Raffaelle's paintings are 
there already, and some fine marbles by Thorwaldsen and 
others. The grounds, like all the palace grounds, are beautiful, 
and seem more southern than northern, with their luxuriant veg- 
etation. I have found no gardens superior to those of Potsdam, 
and yet they are almost entirely the effect of art. The ex- 
pense of their creation must have been enormous, but the 
money was well invested. No gardens in Italy are superior to 
these, and Versailles is not so elaborate nor so varied as the 
miles of flowers, grotto and fountain landscape stretching along 
the picturesque Havel. 

Sans Souci, so familiar to every one acquainted with 
Frederic's time, is a popular place of pilgrimage. The Queen 
Dowager has her home there, I believe ; but persons are often 
admitted. The palace is in mUch the same condition as during 
the monarch's life, barring the wear and tear of years. Nu- 
merous mementos are presented of the great Captain, among 
others the watch he had carried so long, and had been in the 
habit of winding up regularly. By a strange coincidence, it 
stopped at the moment of Frederic's death, which has given 
countless opportunities of tracing an intimate connection be- 
tween the material and spiritual world. 

The extensive gardens, improving still, are really magnif- 
icent. The large fountain and the smaller fountains, the 
statues, lakes, conservatories, bowers and walks, make one feel 
like staying there to enjoy all the beauties set forth. The 
Palace is comparatively plain," which pleases me. If a man 
have a comfortable dwelhng, he shows good taste in expending 
his surplus in ornamenting his grounds. 

The old mill of Sans Souci, famous in verse and prose, still 
stands near the Palace. The old miller who would not sell his 
property to the King, left it to his sons, and it is now in the 
possession of the third generation. Ordinarily, Frederic would 
have thrust the stubborn miller into prison, and burned his 
mill ; but the audacity of the old man delighted the King, and 
made him generous. 




CHAPTEE XLII. 

THE GERMAN GAMBLING SPAS. — BADEN-BADEN. 

CENICALLY, Baden-Baden is almost aU that 
is to be desired ; morally, it is almost all that 
is not to be desired. It is in the Grand 
Duchy of Baden, sixteen miles southwest of Carls- 
ruhe. A punster might show his talent for tor- 
turing words in the title of the place, with more 
reason than is his wont ; for all degrees of badness 
are to be found at the fashionable gambhng place 
so delightfully situated in the valley of the Oos. 

Neither in the Old "World nor in the New, have I any 
knowledge of so charming an inland summer resort. It is a 
poem in point of topography, and Nature and blacklegs have 
done all that lay in their power to render it attractive. It re- 
calls Heidelberg and Freiburg (they are all in the Duchy of 
Baden), by the beauty of its position and the magnificence of 
its surroundings, with the added fascination to pleasure-seek- 
ers, of a crowded and checkered company. 

The town has but seven or eight thousand inhabitants, and 
they and their vulgar life are entirely separated from what is 
politely termed the bathing population by the Oos, which 
would be mistaken for a sewer, if its slight waters were not so 
limpid and so sweet. At the entrance of the Black Forest (so 
intimately associated, in German romances, with sentimental 
highwaymen and dreadful deeds without a name), and over- 
looked by such green and beautifully wooded mountains as 
skirt the Lake of Como, Baden-Baden seems, during the sum- 
mer, to sleep in perfect peace, and to be dreaming, under the 



330 THE DIRECTION. 

soft sunshine, of the loveliness of all created things. No one 
would imagine, who saw it from the tower of the ruined castle 
perched upon a lofty hill, that in the handsome building so 
pleasantly sheltered in the valley far below, the worst passions 
of human nature were aroused and kept in play by the vice of 
gambling. 

At this famous Spa a great effort is certainly made to put a 
fine mask on a hideous face, and to distract the mind from the 
fact that gambhng is the black centre about which this gilded 
wheel revolves. There is the frescoed Pump-room or Trink- 
halle, with its handsome portico, where you can swallow as 
much hot water as you like, at the price of a few kreutzers to 
the hygienic Hebe who dispenses discomfort by the glass. 
There is the delightful promenade in front of the Conversa- 
tions-haus (so styled, I suppose, because no one talks there), 
and the pleasant cafe, where everything is good but what you 
eat and drink. There is the expensive theatre, and the grace- 
ful Pfarrkirche, where you may see plays or hear prayers. 
There is the old Cemetery, with the statue of a grave-digger 
on a lofty pedestal, probably to suggest to bankrupt gamesters 
that they still have one friend left. There are also representa- 
tions of Christ on the Mount of Olives, and a relief of His 
head on a grave-cloth at the gateway. There is the romantic 
ruin of the ancient castle, the old seat of the Margraves, with 
its magnificent panorama of the Rhine Yalley from Worms to 
Strasbourg. 

Surely, there is no taint of gambling in any of those. 
Roulette and Trente-et-Quarante may, after all, be merely 
complements to the circle of pleasures which must be estab- 
hshed at such places. "The Direction" is a benevolent, as 
well as generous, body, that seeks the happiness of society, 
and makes a little Eden down in this quiet valley, to effect its 
pm-pose. 

Let us go into the Conversations-haus, reader. You may 
not have been there before, and I will act as your cicerone on 
the occasion. At the main door of the palatial building, look- 
ing from a spacious colonnade upon a shady alley — the bazaar 



TRENTE-ET-QUARANTE. 331 

of the Spa — and a broad promenade, are half a dozen soldiers 
and uniformed lackeys, the latter to receive hats, canes, and 
imibrellas, and the former to prevent such unseemly exhibi- 
tions as desperate men sometimes indulge in, even at Baden. 
We can go in without questioning, without leaving cane or 
umbrella, though courtesy demands we should remove our hat, 
out of respect to the deity who is worshipped there. 

The saloon we enter is very large and very showy. The 
walls, hung with mirrors, are gilded and frescoed most elabo- 
rately, and crimson velvet seats are ranged all around. A 
number of persons are sitting there quietly, almost listlessly, 
while on one side is a group of well-dressed people, deeply in- 
terested in something we cannot see. 

Several men, clad in knee-breeches and silk stockings, blue 
coats with gilt buttons, and long, embroidered vests, might be 
mistaken, by the uninitiated, for high dignitaries, so much does 
their costume resemble a court dress. They are merely ser- 
vants, whose duty it is to attend to the wants of the players. 

The group of well-dressed men and women surround a 
table, on which there is a great deal of gold and silver coin, 
with a few bank notes. There are four calm-looking fellows, 
soberly dressed, who rake in or push out the coin on the table 
every few seconds, but are usually very taciturn. They are 
the croupiers. 

There is a fifth person, in a high chair, overlooking the 
game. He is the chief, who sees that the games,ters are po- 
litely and properly served, and who settles all disputes between 
the bank and its patrons. A sixth individual deals the cards 
— the game is Trente-etrQuarante — and announces the result, 
mechanically smiling when the bank loses, and looking serious 
when it wins, as if nothing could cause him more well-bred 
regret. 

There are four other saloons equally rich in decoration, 
with tables equally crowded. Two of them are devoted to 
Roulette^ and two to Trente-et-Quarcmte, which is considered 
the more important game, as more money can be lost and won 
at it. 



332 THE GAMESTERS. 

One would suppose the games would lag sometimes, but 
they do not. As the day advances the betting increases, and 
just before the closing hour — 11 p.m. — the excitement is in- 
tense. 

It is interesting to study the faces of the gamesters, many 
of whom have been engaged in the calling for years. One is 
struck with the number of old persons who are either seated 
or standing at the tables. Several bald and gray-haired men 
whom I always find in the Conversations-haus might be bank 
presidents or pillars of Churches, and may be, for aught I 
know. 

They are entirely absorbed with the little cards before 
them, making calculations as to the chances of the next deal 
or the next whirl of the ivory ball. Gambling is their life. 
They are in the saloons two hours before the time for com- 
mencing — 11 o'clock in the morning — waiting restlessly about, 
longing for their daily excitement. 

I have been told the history of some of these ancient dev- 
otees to hazard. The one nearly opposite us, reader, is a re- 
tired merchant from Antwerp. He is wealthy, and has no 
need of money, but he finds in gaming a mental stimulus that 
he deems necessary. He comes about the middle of July, and 
stays until the close of September. He rarely plays largely ; 
but he is more delighted to win a few florins at Baden than he 
once was to make thousands in legitimate business. He fan- 
cies it proves the exactness of his calculation, and arithmetic 
is his particular vanity. 

The hoary gamester near the dealer is wedded to supersti- 
tion. He plays on certain days of the week only — Wednes- 
days and Saturdays, between 12 and 2. Whether he wins or 
loses he stops at the prescribed time, and nothing would in- 
duce him to make another bet. And yet he is regarded as a 
man of sound judgment and extfeme practicality ; is a mem- 
ber of a banking firm in Frankfort, and one of the best busi- 
ness men in the city. He sometimes takes large risks ; "but it 
is said his winnings and losses are about even. 

A mild, rather pensive face is this bending over the 



A DESPERATE CHARACTER. 333 

ci'onpier now and then. It has a certain air of abstraction, 
and not infrequently it is necessary to remind the man it rep- 
resents, that he has won. He receives the Frederics d'or so 
indifi'erently that it is evident he does not play for money. 
He gambles for distraction. He is an Englishman who went 
to India and made a fortune. He had a wife and four chil- 
dren, and they all died there of the cholera. He could live 
there no longer, and his own country has lost its charm for 
him. He travels constantly, but gambles largely at Wies- 
baden, Hombourg, and Baden, every summer. He is almost 
always successful, and yet he has no desire for gain. The 
report is that he devotes to charitable purposes every penny 
that he wins. 

Here is a young American, who has just arrived from 
Paris. His father, a wealthy importer in New York, gave 
him five thousand dollars to come abroad with. He con- 
cluded, an hour ago, to throw away a I^apoleon and he won 
fifty. Now he is a hundred Napoleons loser, and, before he 
quits the table, will part with his last franc. He will have to 
borrow money of one of his father's correspondents in Paris, 
to take him home. If he had lost his Napoleon he would 
have been satisfied. His first success will prove his bane. 

What a place is this for adventurers and adventuresses ! 
All the European capitals send them here. 

This tall, handsome fellow is an Italian of good family. 
He had a commission in the army, but was found guilty of 
forgery, and dismissed from the service. He went to Greece 
and became the leader of a robber-band. His crimes made 
him so odious that a price was set upon his head, and he was 
obliged to fly. He changed his name and went to Pussia. At 
St. Petersburg, an intrigue with a colonel's wife led to a duel, 
which resulted fatally to the injured husband. Fearing exile 
to Siberia, he escaped from tlie Czar's dominions in disguise. 
He soon appeared in Paris as an Italian Count, and, being an 
accomplished fellow and an excellent linguist, -he subsists by 
his wits. His playing here is only for effect. He is looking 
for a victim, and will find one, of course. . His conscience 



334 A STRANGE WOMAN. 

ought to trouble him, h\\i it does not. He is shrewd enough 
to keep out of prison. He will live comfortably for many- 
years ; will send for a priest in his dying hours ; will get abso- 
lution ; and will breathe his last, surrounded by the comforts 
of religion. 

Coming into the saloon, is a man I am sure I have seen in 
New York, in New Orleans, and in London, if not elsewhere. 
His face is so peculiar one does not readily forget it. I don't 
know his name, and have no idea how he lives, though he al- 
ways seems in good circumstances. He puts his hand in his 
pocket, draws out a handful of double Frederics very conspic- 
uously, and loses them in two minutes. Then he saunters into 
the cafe ; lights a cigar, and stares at the women with offensive 
rudeness. I wonder how many times he has been horse- 
whipped! He certainly deserves to have been. Who is he? 
I doubt very much if he could tell himself I think he is an 
American : I am sure he is a scoundrel. 

Leaning, with one of her hands ungloved, on the table, is 
a woman of about twenty-five, judging from her face, and yet 
her hair (it is not powdered) is entirely gray, contrasting 
strangely with her deep black eyes. She seems very anxious 
to win, and yet she loses every stake. She goes from one ta- 
ble to another, and the same ill-fortune attends her. She 
strives to look careless, but she has difiiculty in keeping back 
the tears. Her face is gentle and sympathetic. I pity her. I 
wish I knew her history, for I am confident she has one. 

" That woman," says a man at my side, to his companion 
(pointing below the table in her direction), " ran away from 
her husband, in Dublin, two years ago, with a worthless 
wretch, whom she now supports by selling herself. She will 
do anything to keep him ; for, in spite of his infamy, she loves 
him devotedly. '\ 

" Can such things be ? " 

" Yes ; anything can be at Baden." 

In that blaze of jewels is the wife of a famous musician in 
Paris, who lent her, it is said, to old Louis of Bavaria. The 
king, dying, left her a large sum of money, and she is now en- 



NATIVE BEAUTY. 335 

joying it. "When another wealthy wooer comes, the modern 
Cato will yield his spouse again. Her equipage is one of the 
showiest in the Bois de Boulogne ; and, being a notoriety, it is 
her duty to visit Baden, and play a little for the sake of her 
reputation. She is not handsome nor graceful ; but she is im- 
pure, and impurity, at such places as this, is often an attrac- 
tion. 

These things are unpleasant to think of; but they are true, 
and must be expected where gambling is fashionable. 

As may be supposed, comparatively few of the feminine 
visitors play ; but they like to see others do so. " It is so 
novel, so exciting," I heard an American girl say ; " Baden is 
a charming place — there's so much life here ! " 

If I had been a moralist, I should have answered, " And 
so much death — death of fineness, death of purity, death of 
aspiration." 

Baden is unquestionably gay. "When the band plays in 
front of the Conversations-haus, in the afternoon and evening, 
a more brilliantly dressed and more fashionable throng cannot 
be found in Europe. All the nationalities are represented, 
and some of the women are exceedingly pretty, the prettiest 
— pardon the connection — being the demi-mondeists of Paris, 
and the sweet-faced girls of America. Of course, they look 
very unlike, but both are noticeably handsome. All foreign- 
ers are struck by the beauty of the daughters of the Great 
Kepublic, and cannot quite comprehend the secret of it. 
There is no need of explanation, though it might easily be 
given. Let us be satisfied with the fact. 

The Direction has a weakness in favor of morality and re- 
ligion, which should be set down to its credit. It employs a 
man to sell Bibles in all languages, in front of the great gam- 
bling hall, and informs its patrons, in printed cards conspicuous- 
ly displayed throughout the saloons, that on Sunday neither the 
game of Roulette nor Trente-et-Quarante will be begun until 
after the completion of Divine service. 

Hypocrisy is the deference Vice pays to Virtue — when 
Yirtue pays well. 




CHAPTEE XLni. 

THE GAMBLING SPAS WIESBADEN. 

tiESB ADEN— capital of the Duchy of Nassau, 
and five miles from Mainz — is quite a city, hav- 
ing a population of twenty-three or four thousand, 
and numerous objects of interest, which are gen- 
erally lost sight of in its merely social aspects 
and its reputation for play. This is one of the 
oldest spas in Germany ; is the chief residence 
of the' Duke," and is mentioned by Pliny as renowned for its 
warm baths. On the Heidelberg, to the north of the town, 
traces of a Roman fortress were discovered some twenty years 
ago, and inscriptions show that it was garrisoned by the Four- 
teenth and Twenty-second Legions. What now forms a part 
of the city wall was evidently built by the Romans — it bears 
the name of Heidenmauer or heathen's wall — for fragments 
of temples and votive tablets may still be recognized among 
the stones of which it is composed, and urns, weapons, and 
soldiers' tombs are carefully preserved in the museum. The 
Greek chapel — built by the Duke as a mausoleum for his first 
wife, a Russian Princess — is on the Neroberg, where, accord- 
ing to tradition, Nero once had a palace. The Duke, by the 
bye, expended all the money he had received from his deceased 
consort in the chapel, rendering it a splendid structure; and, 
as he soon married again, it is generally thought that his pecu- 
niary investment was one of the most satisfactory he could 
have made. So you see Wiesbaden is classic ; and, from what 
I have observed there, I am confident it is romantic. 

Though the strongest magnet is the gambling, and the 



THE WARM SPRINGS. 337 

Kursaal, in which the tables are, is the principal resort, many 
persons go for the water, said to be excellent in its hygienic 
eifects. The waters, all from warm springs, are specially valued 
for baths, and have been for years. The Kochbrunnen — ^boil- 
ing spring — is the principal, and, like the other springs, con- 
tains chloride of sodium. Many persons drink the water hot, 
though how they manage it, I can't understand. I succeeded 
in swallowing a mouthful or two, which was quite sufficient to 
Mexicanize me, i. e., throw me into a state of inward revolu- 
tion — and I have never repeated the experiment. Invalids 
must believe it does them good, because it makes them uncom- 
fortable, just as many persons think they are righteous when 
they are only dyspeptic. IJ^ot a few of the gamesters take the 
baths. At least I have often seen them in hot water. 

It is interesting to get up early in the morning and watch 
the people go into the pump-room and perform aqueous duty. 
Young and old, men and women, the sound and the lame ap- 
pear on the scene. Each seems to have a theory about his or 
her health, and to deem it necessary to drink so much water. 
Some swallow one, some two, some three, and others ten 
glasses, usually taking a little exercise between them. I have 
noticed rather elderly men walk to the springs quite briskly, 
who, after drinking, had to be helped home. No doubt, if 
they keep up this peculiar treatment, they float themselves 
into their graves. One must have a vigorous constitution to 
begin with, to drink hot water before breakfast for any length 
of time. I am persuaded the habit, long indulged, would 
destroy a giant. Nearly all invalids grow to be hypochon- 
di-iacs. An ill body makes an ill mind, and sick people are 
inclined to trust everything but Nature, who is, after aU, the 
best physician. 

The baths I have never seen tried ; and my observations have 
led me to the opinion that bathing is not popular in Germany. 
I believe bathing is a good thing, however. I have met a 
number of persons during my travels in that country, who 
would, I am sure, be benefited by it. The exact efiect of chloride 
22 



338 THE KVRSAAL. 

of sodium I do not know ; but in its absence I hold that ordi- 
nary soap might be safely substituted. 

The Kursaal, near the end of the Wilhelms-strasse, the 
principal thoroughfare, is a very large and handsome building, 
with a Pantheon portico and two extended wings. It is de- 
voted to play ; but ball, concert, reading, and dining-rooms 
are connected with the restaurant. They are all decorated and 
furnished very richly, the walls being frescoed and gilded in 
the style of the French and Italian palaces. In the main hall 
are pillars of red and gray marble of the country, and in the 
walls are niches containing very fair copies of the Venus, 
Apollo, and other famous antiques. A beautiful park, with 
fountains and elaborate flower-beds, is in front of the Kursaal, 
and in the rear an extensive garden, with charming walks, 
ponds, rustic bridges, groves, and water-jets. On two sides of 
the park are colonnades, in which are elegant shops for the sale 
of jewelry, photographs, flowers, books, and toilette articles. 
Inwardly and outwardly the Kursaal is exceedingly attractive, 
very much what extravagant reporters describe gambling sa- 
loons to be in our own cities, but what they seldom are. 

The gambling saloons, containing five tables, two roulette 
and three trente-et-quarante, are open to everybody ; and the 
smallest formality, such as the usual leaving of your cane or 
umbrella at the door, is not at all necessary. The gilded spider 
says to the wandering fly : " Come into my pleasant parlor. 
There are no hindrances. I will entertain you as long as you 
will stay." 

Roulette and trente-et-quarante are fairly played there ; but 
there are advantages enough in favor of the banker to render 
it certain he will win in the long run. Much depends on cool- 
ness, and professional players are always cool. Then there do 
seem to be such things as streaks of good and ill-luck, as they 
are called, much as reason contradicts it. Everybody has 
experienced this, and nobody has accounted for it. 

There are times when you cannot get a good hand at euchre 
or whist, shuffle the cards as you may, and other times when 
you out-hold your adversary all the while. Fortune is against 



THE TABLES CROWDED. 339 

you, or on your side, and you cannot change it by any kind of 
tact, or by any taxing of your ingenuity. The only M'ay to do 
when you are in ill-luck is to cease playing ; but that is the 
very thing men wont do. Gamblers never bet so largely and 
recklessly as when they are losing ; for they seek to get back 
their losses, and the result is they only add thereto. Persons who 
win are prone to play cautiously. They do not double, treble, 
and quadruple, as when they are far behind the game ; for they 
have not the motive to risk large sums. It is this more than 
anything else by which amateur gamblers suffer. They fail to 
recognize when the tide has set against them, and to profit by 
the knowledge. To lose, renders them desperate ; to win, 
makes them cautious; and so it will always be with human 
nature. 

The gambling, as I have said, begins at 11 in the morning 
and ends at 11 in the evening, Sundays excepted, since Prussia 
has had dominion over Kassau. The masses, or stakes, are 
limited. You cannot bet less than one florin (about forty 
cents) at roulette, or less than two florins at trente-et-qua- 
rante / and you cannot bet more than four thousand florins in 
any event. 

The saloons are opened the 1st of May and closed the 1st 
of November. During July and August they are constantly 
thronged. You cannot get at the tables without crowding, 
and you must lean over others to put your money down. 
Not a few persons would bet in a small way, for the sake of 
betting, if many were not so eager for the excitement as to 
render the experiment difficult. 

The throng about the tables is not of the character you 
would expect, or have heard about. Beautiful duchesses, 
betting away their diamonds ; Russian princes, with heaps of 
frederics d'or before them, calmly and systematically breaking 
the bank ; handsome young spendthrifts losing their last napo- 
leon, and then stepping into the garden to blow their brains 
out, are seldom seen. Still there is a motley crew of game- 
sters. Many of them, as at Baden-Baden, are old men and 
old women, who look as if they might be at the head of chari- 



340 FEMININE GAMESTERS. 

table societies. They take the deepest interest in the game ; 
come early, and go late ; watch every point and turn ; can tell 
you every number and card that has won during the past six 
hours. They don't play for pleasure or excitement. They 
play for money. They are mercenary. Avarice is the one 
passion that has survived. Outliving love, indifferent to 
friendship, too old for ambition, incapable of a future at their 
years, every feeling is centred in selfishness, every desire in 
gain. Dreary old age theirs ; what would they do if they 
could not gamble ? 

Not infrequently, you see a man and his wife, seated side 
by side, both old, both selfish, both mercenary. I have known 
them to occupy their positions ten hours at a time, without 
turning their heads from the table, rarely uttering a word, but 
looking very wretched when they lost, and savagely satisfied 
when they won. Some of these pairs are present season after 
season. When they come not, the undertaker has been called 
in, and their bodies are hidden from sight. 

Not all the women who gamble are old, or homely, or 
heartless. Many of the feminine gamesters are young and 
handsome, and intense to the last degree. They want money 
or excitement, or both, and yet their attire and jewels, and 
their nervous faces, would indicate that they had abundance of 
both. They are usually French ; often English ; sometimes 
Italians ; seldom Germans ; never Americans. Occasionally 
they are women of rank, but, for the most part, adventuresses 
who find at the spas the sensations they seek. 

There is one opposite. She is very pretty. She is ele- 
gantly and expensively dressed. Pearls are on her neck, 
which is liberally exposed ; diamonds are on her fingers ; 
emeralds are on her arms. Her eyes are bright, and her lips 
are red, so bright and so red that they suggest fever of the 
brain and blood. She is alone. No one knows her, or cares 
to know her. Yet she has many friends in Paris. , She only 
came yesterday. She has been to Baden-Baden and Hom- 
burg ; she will soon leave for Ems. 

She is making her annual round. She plays for oblivion. 



VICTIMS OF PLAY. 341 

Slie is educated and naturally refined. Her purse is full, for 
her friends are generous ; but her heart is empty, and a viper 
crawls and stings under those heaving folds of lace. 

She is a fashionable lorette — a creature that cannot exist, 
save on the Seine. Her life will not be long, for inward fires 
are burning through the desecrated temple of clay. 

Five years hence, when you visit Pere la Chaise, you will 
see a small white monument, and on it will be graven " Elise." 
Nothing more ? Yes ; an immortelle will crown the marble, 
and "Z'^mowr" will be written on the circle. 

Poor Elise ! Like many better women, she was loved too 
late. 

At this end of the table is another fair woman. Why does 
she play ? Her husband is wealthy. She has children who 
love her, and whose years are tender. She leaves him and 
them, and comes here secretly to gamble. It is the passion of 
her soul. A few years ago she risked a sovereign at Ems, and 
from that time she became a confirmed gambler. She pawns 
her jewels and her clothes. Her husband counsels her against 
extravagance, never dreaming where his liberal allowance goes. 

Such instances are not uncommon. "Women can rarely do 
things in moderation. They can have no easy vices. They 
cannot play with fire to-day, and forget it to-morrow. To 
sport with the blazing brand is to consume themselves. 

It is sad to see women gamble. I am not conservative in 
the least ; but the spectacle gives me pain, I am very glad 
Americans are not guilty of the practice, and I hope they 
never will be. It is bad enough for men ; but they can do 
with impunity what will ruin women. 

Wiesbaden is gay and fashionable. The music is sweet. 
Eyes are bright. Robes are rich. The gardens are beautiful. 
But under the gilding and the glitter and the perfume I see a 
grinning skeleton that makes my blood run cold. 



^ 




CHAPTER XLIV. 

THE GAMBLING SPAS HOMBOIIRG. 

I OMBOUEG, a few miles from Frankfort-on- 
the-Main, is situated on one of the hills at 
the foot of the Great Feldberg, not far from 
the Taunus Momitains. As a town, it is 
nothing; but as a fasliionable resort, and as a 
gaming centre, it is considered of vast impor- 
tance. Like Heidelberg, it consists mainly of one 
street, on which stands the Kurhaus — the famous 
gambling saloon, with its accompannnents — and to 
that point everybody tends. Of late years, Hombourg has 
grown more and more into favor as a smnmer resort, and now 
disputes successfully with its older rivals, "Wiesbaden and 
Baden-Baden, the claim to cosmopolitan popularity. As a 
place for play, it has rather outstripped them ; the stakes 
being larger, and the betting more active than at the two other 
fashionable spas. 

The vicinity is reported to have considerable interest for 
antiquarians ; the Saalburg, near by, having been ascertained 
to be the remains of an old Roman fort and part of a line of 
military works built by Germanicus, to prevent the incursions 
of the Teutons after they had been conquered by the imperial 
legions. Ptolemy mentions Hombourg as Arctaunon. I men- 
tion it as a tinselled arena for fighting the tiger, an animal that 
aboimds in the neighborhood, and is remarkable, zoologically 
considered, for the velvet sheathing of his claws. 

I have seen a great many persons there from all parts of 
Europe and America ; but so far as I could observe, their inter- 



CONCEALED DANGER. 343 

est in antiquities was neither profound nor enthusiastic. They 
don't seem to care a fig about Drusus or Tacitus, their time 
and attention being absorbed by wine, women, and play. This 
is an unclassic age, I suspect ; and even cultivated men will 
neglect Plato and Seneca, and all their fine discourses, to look 
after their rouleaux of coin, or to follow the pretty coquette 
who has indicated that she may be won. 

The tables there, as at Wiesbaden and Baden-Baden, are 
leased by the Duchy for so much a year, and the government 
derives $80,000 to $100,000 per annum from the lessee. From 
this it may be inferred that the gambling saloons are remunera- 
tive — to those who conduct them, and that the miscellaneous 
public is correspondingly a loser. 

Hombourg, in the elaborate decoration of its saloons, the 
beauty of its promenades, and the delightfulness of its gardens, 
is hardly equalled by any gambling place in Germany. All 
that taste and money can do to render the Kurhaus and its 
surroundings attractive is done in the most lavish manner. 
The saloons are gorgeous with gilt, painting, and luxurious 
furniture ; and in the evening, when the great chandeliers are 
lighted, and the throng is largest, the Km-haus is brilliant in- 
deed. The danger and the evil of gaming are cunningly 
concealed. In connection with the saloons, as elsewhere, are 
music and reading rooms, an excellent cafe, and restaurant — all 
charming places for lounging. 

No one asks you to play. You have all the privileges of 
the place without risking a kreutzer. You are not even expected 
to bet unless you want to. !No impression is conveyed that you 
ought to lose something in payment of your luxurious com- 
fort. Everybody is polite and self-disciphned. There is no 
noise, no apparent excitement. The tables are crowded. The 
bank has patrons in excess without you. What would be your 
few florins to the piles of bank-notes and the rouleaux of na- 
poleons that cover the table ? If you wish to bet, you must 
press against some one else, and the croupier looks at your 
stake, whether it be large or small, so calmly and complacent- 
ly, that you feel as if it were a privilege to lose, and an obliga- 
tion to win. 



344 TRENTE-ET-QUAEANTE. 

All this has its effect, and is ingeniously devised. The 
ease and repose you see around you give you a sense of secur- 
ity. The numerous gamesters of both sexes seem to be favor- 
ites of fortune. If they had not been successful, they would 
not have such an air of tranquillity. They may be losers at 
this moment ; but they must have won before. Otherwise 
they would not be on such terms of satisfaction with them- 
selves ; for to fail in anything begets discontent, and discon- 
tent enters into the manners as dyspepsia does into our 
opinions. 

There is a feeling of avarice in almost every man, even if it 
be latent. No sensible mind despises money ; and as you watch 
the game, and see fifty or a hundred napoleons drawn in by a 
lucky bettor, it seems so easy and so pleasant to win that you 
are tempted to risk at least a trifle. That trifle staked, unless 
you have more than common strength, the beginning of the 
habit is formed — a delicate fibre at first, and a cable of wire at 
last. So appearances deceive. So we slip into placid streams 
that bear us unconsciously to fatal rapids. 

The games played there, as at the other Continental spas, 
are roulette and trente-et-quarante, or rouge-et-noir. The 
trente-et-quarante table is oval, and covered with green cloth, 
and in the middle are the apparatus and the funds of the bank. 
There are four different chances in the play, designated, let me 
say, by A, B, C, D, called respectively noir, rouge, couleur, 
and contre-couleur ; A marking the chance depending on the 
first series of cards, B the chance depending on the second 
series, C the chance of the first card, and D the opposite chance. 
The player is at liberty to bet any sum not less than two, or 
more than fifty-six hundred florins. If he wins on any one of 
the chances, he gets the amoimt of his stake, or mise, as it is 
called. If he loses, his stake is taken. The pack or deck of 
cards is complete, as in whist ; ace counting one, deuce two, 
trey three, etc., and each face card ten. 

Every pack contains fifty-two cards, and each color has 
twenty-six cards. The whole number of points is three hun- 
•dred and forty, eighty-five for eacli of the four denominations. 



ROULETTE. 345 

The game is played with six packs of cards, making two thou- 
sand and forty points. The tailleur (the croupier who lays the 
cards) deals from the six packs, and lays them in two series, 
so that each series contains more than thirty points, but never 
over forty. The first series is for noir ; the second for rouge. 
The series that contains thirty or nearest to it wins ; the other 
loses. 

According to the chance called couleur, the first card in 
the first series gives the color upon which the bettor plays. If 
the first card is noir, his gain or loss depends upon the gain or 
loss of the first row. If the first series has thirty, or the nearer 
to the number, he wins, and the tailleur so announces. If the 
card is rouge, the bettor's gain or loss depends on the second 
series. Contre-couleur is opposed to couleur. The bettor plays 
upon the second series, and if the first card laid down is rouge, 
the banker announces that rouge and couleur have won. The 
banker is obliged to announce the number of points of every 
series as soon as it is laid on the table. If both series are forty, 
the bettor neither loses nor wins. He can withdraw his stake 
or leave it, and the new deal decides. If the two series each 
have thirty-one points, the refait, as it is termed, is for the 
benefit of the bank. The croupiers put the stake of the bettor 
"in prison," and if he wins next time, his money is returned; 
if the contrary, it is lost. 

The banker announces when the game is made, and then 
no stakes can be accepted or withdrawn. The croupiers draw 
in the lost money and pay the winners. The banker throws the 
cards into a basket after the series. When a new game is 
made the croupiers shuffle them, and any bettor can cut them. 
The circle of players, called the "galerie," can compel the 
banker to take new cards if the majority wish it. 

Roulette is played with a cylinder, in which there are 
thirty-six numbers, from 1 upward, and a single (there are 
two zeros at some of the gambling places), with corresponding 
compartments, each one black or red, and answering to a num- 
ber. The cyHnder or wheel is turned, and a small ivory ball, 
sent in the opposite direction, at last falls into one of the com- 



346 THE CLASS OF VISITORS. 

partments. On the cloth that covers the table are the same 
numbers as in the cyHnder, ranged in three colunms, with 
three 12's on the right and left, and on the side of the columns 
are the words rouge (red), impair (not straight), manque (be- 
low the middle number), noir (black), passe (above the mid- 
dle number), and pair (straight). 

The bettor can play in seventeen different ways by putting 
his money on the numbers of the table, or the lines of the 
columns, and is paid in proportion to the risk he takes ; the 
game being decided by the compartment into which the ball 
falls. If the player puts his money on the space marked im- 
pair, any odd number wins ; if on the pair, an even number 
wins; and so with the passe and manque. The lowest bet 
that can be made on roulette is one florin, and thirty-six times 
the amount of the stake may be won, if the number betted on 
receives the ivory ball. 

Usually, a number of Americans may be found at Hom- 
bourg, but the greater part of the visitors are English, French, 
Italians, Spaniards, Germans, and Russians. Among the 
Americans there are few bettors, though sometimes they risk 
largely, and generally lose, from the fact that they don't study 
the game. The English play frequently but cautiously ; the 
French with prudence, and after careful calculation ; the Ger- 
mans in a small way, rarely losing their judgment through 
excitement ; the Italians spasmodically and fcA'-erishly ; the 
Spaniards from pure love of gambling, and the Russians very 
freely and desperately. 

Most of the foreigners who visit the German spas are in 
prosperous circumstances, particularly the Italians, Spaniards, 
and Russians. The last are usually men of consequence at 
home, and possessors of fortunes. They seem to have a vanity 
in spending money that is beyond the folly of the Americans. 
Kot many of them travel, and those who do think they must 
be extravagant for the sake of the national reputation. 

The Russians are the best patrons of the gambling-houses, 
the largest buyers of champagne and diamonds, and the great- 
est fools about women of any people on the Continent. There 



THE TEMPTATION OF VANITY. 347 

are so few Muscovite beauties that when a subject of the Czar 
sees a pretty face or a graceful figure, he becomes infatuated at 
once — a natural result of the disparity between supply and 
demand. 

At Hombourg, as at the other spas, the feminine gamesters 
are the most interesting subjects of study, and there are many 
— the majority from Paris. Most of them are young; but 
occasionally you see a matron of sixty, gross and wrinkled, 
trying her chances at the tables. I have seen antique creatures, 
too old to walk alone, some on crutches even, who sat steadily 
and anxiously, hour after hour, parting with their iloruis, and 
envying all who had the courage to risk gold. When women 
begin to gamble, they are apt to keep up the habit very late in 
life. Several gray-haired women have been visiting Hom- 
bourg for the last fifteen years, and will continue to visit it 
until death wins their final stake. 

It is noticeable that the young women who play are generally 
very extravagant in their style of dress ; and I have no doubt 
their temptation springs from love of adornment. When they 
win any considerable sum they expend it for jewelry, and when 
they lose, they call on Mr. Moses and obtain a loan on his usu- 
ally favorable terms. No women living have such a passion 
for display as French women of a certain class. They would 
sell themselves to the devil for trumpery and gewgaws, and 
seal the bargain by a mortgage on their souls. 

The garden in the rear of the Kurhaus is a most remarkable 
field for flirtation. !No one feels less interest in other people's 
love affairs than I do. Indeed, I am always trying to avoid 
knowing anything about them, which may be the reason I am 
constantly stumbling upon them. I used to like to walk in 
the garden in the evening, with my cigar and my thoughts as 
companions ; but I have discovered so many men and women 
fondling each other that I was forced to go elsewhere. 

Why will persons of mature years be sentimental in public ? 
There ought to be an asylum for such lunatics, though I sus- 
pect they would prove incurables. Sentiment is well enough 
in its way, no doubt, but I can't conceive of any emergency 



348 



LOVE-MAKING IN PUBLIC. 



that should excuse a man for calling a woman "darling" on 
the highway, or for clasping her waist in the office of a crowded 
hotel. 

Nor can I regard with leniency the men and women of 
society who, in the pleasant rambles at the back of the Kur- 
haus, will insist upon relating to every idle stroller the exact 
nature of their mutual relations. If they will be fond of each 
other, let them keep the fact to themselves. 





CHAPTER XLY. 

EMS. 

'MS, near Coblenz, makes up the quartette 
of fashionable gambling spas in Germany. 
Though not so well known in our country as 
Hombourg and Wiesbaden, it is very famous 
on the other side of the Atlantic as the resort of the 
heau monde. It is claimed for Ems that its society is 
better — more distinguished than that of its rivals ; that 
there the high courtesies and elegances of society are 
more thoroughly observed than at any other summer 
resort. 

I have studied Ems closely, but I do not find it materially 
unlike any place where persons with a good deal of money go 
to play and dissipate, and throttle time with the feverish hands 
of excitement. 

Ems is old as the Romans, and the fact is shown by the 
discovery, even to this day, of antique coins and vases. It has 
not improved very much, notwithstanding its age; for the 
little village cannot now boast of more than three thousand 
persons. The floating and bathing population exceeds twenty 
thousand a year, and the townspeople make enough out of 
them, while they are there, to live very comfortably until the 
annual return, 

A few square miles of the neighborhood once belonged to 
eight different princes, each one of whom was a little despot, 
and more self-important than the Emperor, or the Czar of 
Kussia. 

The town is pleasantly situated on the Xahn, a pretty 



350 FEMALE HYPOCHONDRIACS. 

little stream, and flanked by picturesque green hills com- 
manding a fine view, including the Rhine and the Royal Cha- 
teau of Stolzenfels. There are many shady walks and quiet 
nooks, into which lovers can retire for private consultation, 
and where men who have lost their last stake can cut their 
throats without making a scene at the tables that have ruined 
them. 

The waters are celebrated, as many as two hundred thou- 
sand bottles being exported every year, which does not prevent 
many persons from making annual pilgrimages to fill them- 
selves with the ill-tasting liquids, declared to be beneficial in 
consumption, and in all the complaints of woman, including^ 
I suppose, heartache, and the certainty of a mission. 

I saw an elderly woman at the Kurhaus one day, who un- 
doubtedly weighed two hundred and fifty pounds. She goes to 
Ems every year, I was informed, and never fails to make her 
appearance at eight o'clock to drink five or six glasses of the 
water. She resides at Mayence ; actually beheves she has the 
consumption, and that nothing but the Ems spring keeps her 
alive. The story goes that her physician, a shrewd fellow, 
knowing her to be very rich, continues to get a large sum from 
her annually by pretending to defer her funeral, which but for 
him would certainly take place. I am convinced, after look- 
ing at her, that she is suffering from the dropsy, caused by the 
excessive imbibition of waters, and that two or three more 
seasons of hydropathic treatment will put her under the sod. 

I noticed a rosy English girl who paid her regular devo- 
tion to the springs. She labored under the delusion that she 
had an afiection of the heart. Perhaps she had : it is a com- 
mon feminine complaint; but it never proves fatal. She 
looked like a young woman who might suffer in that way, and 
cause others to suffer ; but that she was afflicted with any dis- 
ease is preposterous. I should as soon suspect Hebe of having 
the dyspepsia. 

Generally the gambling is not heavy, but sometimes an 
ambitious player entertains hopes of breaking the bank, and 
succeeds in breaking himself. 



SCHEME TO BREAK THE BANK, 351 

Last season several Russians, with a joint capital of two 
hundred and fifty thousand florins, formed a scheme of the 
kind. They had figured it out to their complete satisfaction 
that they could accomplish their object in one evening. They 
played for three nights, and, at the end of the third night, 
they lost everything they had. One of them, it is said, en- 
deavored to hang himself in his room at the hotel, but, being 
discovered, he declared he was merely trying a philosophic 
experiment. 

I remember, at Ems, one of the mysterious women who 
always haunt such places. No one knew her. She avoided 
making acquaintances, and seemed very desirous to part with 
her money. She was dark-eyed and dark-haired, probably a 
Spaniard. Her diamonds were splendid, and several Hebrew 
gentlemen had hope she might be compelled to pawn them. 
She was singularly imperturbable — ^her face statue-like in its 
perfect repose. She was extremely generous, giving away 
napoleons where others gave florins, so that she was the wor- 
shipped of lackeys. 

There were all sorts of stories concerning her. One that 
her husband married her for money and would not leave her, 
because she was rich, though she had requested him to do so. 
She had taken the Ems mode of reducing her fortune. An- 
other report was that she had gotten her means by some nnre- 
vealed crime, and wanted to lose because its possession troubled 
her conscience. The gossips even intimated that murder was 
the source of her wealth, while others said she was foi-merly 
a nun ; that she had run away with a Sicilian pirate, who died 
and left her a large fortune. My own opinion is, that she was 
simply a discontented woman of ample means, who found in 
play the excitement she needed, and could not get otherwise. 

At Ems I heard much of a Russian prince — princes in 
Russia are plenty as windmills in Holland — who looked like 
a German, though his face was less square than the average 
t}^e of the Teutonic race. He was not more than thirty, but 
seemed tive-and-forty. A more thoroughly hlase being I never 
saw. He merely played for sensation ; but drinking aquafortis 



352 A PRINCELY BLACKGUARD. 

would hardly have given him one. He did not take up his 
stakes when he won, but let them lie until the turn of fortune 
swept them all away. He broke the bank one night, summer 
before last, when he was too tipsy to see, and the next season 
he tried to do it again by keeping drunk constantly. He was 
very wealthy, having inherited a large fortune from his mother, 
and having married another, owned by a gentle and lovable 
woman, who, for all her virtues, was rewarded with a profligate 
husband. 

Why is it that the best and sweetest women are so often 
wedded to brutes and scoundrels? The prince was dissipated 
in every way. He drank vodka, the liquid fire of his own 
country, because cognac was not strong enough for him ; had 
all sorts of vulgar liaisons ; showed his wife's letters to the 
coarsest women, and picked his teeth at the table. And yet 
he was a veritable prince by blood, and a veritable blackguard 
by instinct. 

One evening, as I was smoking a cigar and lounging 
through the gardens of the new bath-house, I picked up a 
small and handsomely- worked purse. Presuming I should soon 
find the loser, I did not open it, but continued my stroll, carry- 
ing the purse in my hand. 

At the next turn in the walk I encountered a pretty and 
elegantly-dressed young woman, and noticed by the glare of 
the lamps that she was looking for something, and that she 
was one of the many adventuresses who frequent the gambling 
spas. I felt sure she was the owner of the purse. 

" Have you lost a purse ? " I inquired. 

" Oh, yes ! (very eagerly.) Do you know anything about 
it?" 

" Here it is ; " and I gave it to her. 

" Oh, I am so much obliged to you. There is little in it, 
but it is a good deal just now. I want the money to take 
me back to Paris." 

As I said, "I am very glad you have recovered it," I 
threw away my cigar. 

Feminine eyes are always observant. 



CONFESSIONS OF AN ADVENTURESS. 353 

" You need not have thrown away your cigar." 

" I never smoke in the society of women." 

*' You are an American." 

" Wliat makes you think so ?" 

"Your French betrays it; and you don't smoke in the 
presence of women. Oh ! I am very tired and heated." 

"You look so. Why don't you sit down? Good even- 
ing." 

"You are not going? I see — ^you avoid me; you know 
what I am, and you despise me." 

" I know what you are, but I don't despise you." 

" I feel excessively lonely to-night. Won't you sit down 
on this bench ? Light another cigar. I like smoking. What 
is your opinion of such women as I am ? " 

" That they are unfortunate." 

"I'm not unfortunate, sir. I am much more contented 
than many better women. I believe I'm really happy, often." 

" I am glad to hear that, madame. I wish everybody in 
this world, and out of it, were happy; but I should hardly 
have looked for happiness in one of your class." 

"Why not, pray?" 

" Your life must be so full of deceit and anxiety, that I 
don't see how you can be at peace with yourself." 

" What do you know of my life ? " 

"Kothing, madame; I only surmise it." 

" Would you like to know my life ? " 

" To be candid, I should." 

" Well, I'll tell you my story, though you may not believe 
it ; for when we women volunteer confessions, we usually make 
them for the sake of concealing a falsehood." 

" That is not generally true." 

" You have a high opinion of women." 

" Yes ; I believe they are Usually what men make of them. 
If they go wrong, where circumstances are not to blame, 
man is." 

" That's' delightful. In Paris no man trusts women, and 
consequently nowhere else is he so much deceived. But to 
23 



354 A STRANGE STORY. 



i 



begin : I am the illegitimate daughter of a wealthy banker 
and a grisette. My father gave me a fine education, and would 
have left me a handsome property, if he had not failed and 
died soon after. I was still at school ; but thrown on my own 
resources, I was obliged to do something. I went into a shop, 
and received eight hundred francs a year, for I was pretty and 
clever. My tastes were extravagant, and I soon felt cramped 
for means, for I had a passion for dress and jewelry. I had 
many admirers the first month of my shop life, and numerous 
were the propositions made me. I rejected them at first; 
but at last I fell in love with a young fellow, and, when he 
wooed me, I was easily won. I believed him the most glori- 
ous creature in the world, and I used to lie at his feet and be 
perfectly happy if he only looked at me. I kept my place in 
the shop, for he wanted me to. I gave him all my earnings, 
and would have toiled night and day to win his smile. Soon 
he treated me brutally — still I loved him; and finally he 
wanted a miniature of my father that I prized most highly, 
and when I begged hun on my knees not to take it, he beat 
me and deserted me. 

"I vowed to Heaven then, I would never care for any 
man again ; that I would fiatter your sex for my own ends, 
and enjoy Hfe to the utmost. I got a new place in the Boule- 
vards at twelve hundred francs — a large salary for a woman in 
Paris — and soon I had scores of fashionable fellows at my feet. 
They gave me costly presents, and I had no need of being a 
clerk, but I thought it added to my means of attraction. 

" I was really happy, and should have continued to be if 
I had not formed another attachment for a literary man, who 
did not like me at first. I tried to conceal my love ; but one 
evening, when I was alone with him, he said something kind 
to me, and, bursting into tears, I revealed my secret. 

" My love touched him. He was a gentleman, and very 
tender, and even grew fond of me because I loved him so. I 
wanted more than fondness, and I became so wretched that I 
tried to drown myself in the Seine ; but I was dragged out. 
M.y cold bath cured me, and I changed my life. 



ACTUAL AND IDEAL LOSSES. 355 

" I quitted the shop and resolved to live bj my charms. I 
had great success from the start. I seemed to attract all men. 
I had counts and advocates, artists and authors, in my train, 
and I accepted the wealthy — was kind to all and true to none. 

" I really enjoyed the life I led — it was so gay, so luxuri- 
ous, so exciting. But, alas ! I was a third time a victim to my 
heart, and of course wretchedness followed. 

" My third conqueror not only did not love me, but loved 
somebody else. I thought I had steeled my heart ; but I am 
afraid I shall always be weak there. For three years now I 
have lived oh excitement, and been quite happy. I have no 
remorse, no regret. I don't believe in anything, save when 
I'm foolish enough to fall in love ; and if I can shut up my 
heart, I shall be contented. I have lost all my money this 
evening, and have only enough to return home, as I have 
said ; but I can get more." 

"But what will be the end of all this ? " 

" I don't know ; I don't think ; I don't care, except in my 
lonely hours, of which this is one. When I am no longer 
young or fair, I shall, if I get poor and wretched, buy char- 
coal, and go to heaven." 

" Do you think you will go there ? " 

" Yes, if any place. I am not wicked. I have harmed no 
one, and I'd be a different woman il* some good, generous man 
had really loved me. Adieu." 

" She was French," some reader says. 

Yes ; but she was also a woman. 

I myself had losses at Ems, which, if I were called upon to 
put into form, I should give in our currency after this fashion : 

Ems, . To the undersigned — Dr. 

To seven pieces of linen unreturned by the laundress, - - - $20 

(N. B. — Ems laundresses never make proper returns.) 
To five attacks of nausea at seeing patients drink the waters, - 500 

To one hundred efforts to admire women who thought they were 

pretty and were not, ■ 1,000 

To two napoleons laid on table and not picked up, ... 8 

To sums I should have won, and didn't, .... - - 150,000 

Total, $151,528 




CHAPTER XLYL 

THE ElVrPEKOR WILLIAM AND THE CKOWN PKINCE. ^fll 

|0 man of mediocre ability, in this generation, 
lias attracted so much attention, or risen to such 
an eminence, as William I., now Emperor of Ger- 
many. Above most mortals is he indebted to for- 
tune, which from the first has been on his side. 
What he was, he owes to his ancestors, and to the 
good luck of his brother's incapacity and death. 
What he is, he owes to his Minister, who has unquestionably 
the best brain in Europe. Bismarck, like Richelieu, Mazarin, 
and Colbert, has done vastly more for his monarch than the 
monarch could have done for himself. William has stepped to 
his high imperial position from the shoulders of his Chan- 
cellor. 

The new Emperor, the second son of Frederic William III., 
and brother of Frederic William IV., was born March 22, 
ITOT; entered the military service, as is the custom of the 
royal family of Prussia, at a very early age, and took part in 
the campaigns of 1813 and 1815 against France. He was 
present at the battle of Waterloo in the capacity of a staff 
officer ; but as he was little more than eighteen, it is not prob- 
able that he rendered very effective service. In 1840 he be- 
came Grand Master of the Masonic order of the kingdom. 
On the accession of his brother to the throne he was appointed 
Governor of Pomerania, and seven years later a member of the 
first General Diet. When the democratic outbreak took place 
in Berlin during March, 1848, William, who was regarded as 
an absolutist, was forced to fly to England, whence he returned 




EMPEROR WILLIAM. 



HISTORY OF THE EMPEROR, 357 

three months after, and accepted the office of Deputy in the 
National Assembly. The following year, as commander of the 
forces, he repressed the insurrection in Baden in a very short 
campaign. During the Crimean war he was supposed to be 
in favor of the allies against Russia, and altogether hostile to 
the passive policy of the Prussian Government at that time. 
In the autumn of 1857 he was entrusted with the direction of 
the government on account of the physical and mental infirm- 
ity of the reigning King. This trust, having been several 
times renewed, in October, 1858, he was made Regent, and on 
the death of his brother became King, January 2, 1861. 

In July of the same year a German student named Decker 
attempted to assassinate William at Baden-Baden. The bullet 
from the would-be regicide's pistol grazed the King's shoulder, 
tearing his coat ; and this circumstance actually induced Wil- 
liam to believe that his life was saved by an interposition of 
Providence, and strengthened his conviction of the divinity of 
his own kmgship, if not of kingships in general. Though 
never suspected of any remarkable military ability, he has 
taken a prominent part, by reason of his royalty, in all the 
wars waged by Prussia against other powers, and was com- 
mander-in-chief of the army in the brief but brilliant struggle 
which enabled him to dictate terms to Austria at the very 
gates of Yienna. In the late war against France he has been, 
after Bismarck, the foremost figure ; and the supremely splen- 
did triumphs of Germany, and his investment with the impe- 
rial purple, have been enough to fill the measure of the most 
ambitious man's ambition. The one drop of dissatisfaction in 
his overflowing cup of self-congratulation may be the conscious- 
ness that he owes his shining laurels to another, and that that 
other is wholly mindful of the manner in which the imperial 
greatness has been achieved. 

Though now in his seventy-fifth year, he seems as hale and 
vigorous as the Crown Prince ; having endured all the severe 
campaigning of last winter as a man of forty might have done. 
The Emperor William is no more princely or royal in appear- 
ance than Louis Napoleon. He has an honest, frank, plain, 



358 



HIS DOMESTIC LIFE. 



but by no means striking or even noticeable face. He might 
be mistaken for a sturdy and prosperous burgher, well satisfied 
with himself and his circumstances, capable of enjoying and 
certain of getting a good dinner. He is unmistakably of the 
blond German type — his features large and rather heavy, an- 
swering to his stalwai-t and muscular frame. He is thoroughly 
a soldier, and little else — candid, direct, even bluif — ^possessing 
few words for courtesy, and none for ornament. Born to the 
common lot, he would pi'obably have risen to the command of 
a regiment — perhaps of a brigade ; would have done his duty 
always ; have left a good record, and died with a favorable 
mention in the Military Gazette. 

In his thirty -first year he married the Duchess Maria 
Louisa Augusta Catherine of Saxe- Weimar, by whom he has 
had two children, the Crown Prince, and Louisa Maria, manned 
in 1856 to the Grand Duke Frederic of Baden, Much was 
said during the Franco-German war of William's model do- 
mesticity as displayed in his military despatches to Augusta. 

His reputation as a loyal hus- 
band in Berlin is not so firmly 
established as it might be; and 
the reports that the royal pair 
have not been wholly harmoni- 
ous have been by no means con- 
fined to the circles of the Court. 
Perhaps his last war has im- 
proved the venerable monarch, 
and it may be that he observes 
as Emperor all the Command- 
ments, which as King he found 
difficult to keep. 
Frederic William, presumptive heir to the tnrone, whose 
title is Crown Prince, was born October 18, 1831. He is 
Lieutenant-General of the army. Inspector of the First Di- 
vision, Commander of the First Division of Infantry of the 
Guard, Chief of the First Regiment of Grenadiers of Eastern 
Prussia number one, and the occupant of at least a dozen other 




THi; EaiPEROlt S PALACE — BEBLIN. 



FREDERIC WILLIAM. 



359 



military oflBces. Like all members of the royal family, lie re- 
ceived a strict military education, and entered the army at a very 
early age. He has seen much service in the field, and has 
always distinguished himself as a most competent and cour- 
ageous soldier. In the war with Austria, ho commanded the 




PBINCB FREDEBIC VLLUAX. 



Army of the Oder, and by his gallantry did much to gain the 
splendid victory at Sadowa. In January, 1858, he married 
the Princess Yictoria, eldest daughter of the Queen of Eng- 
land, and has had by the union five children. The alliance is 
said to be an unhappy one ; the princess never having had, as 
is stated, any affection for or sympathy with him. She was 



360 



HIS FUTURE AS EMPEROR. 



wedded for reasons of State, not from any prompting of her 
heart ; and I remember at the time of her nuptials, that it was 
pnblicly declared that she went to the altar bathed in tears, 
which were not the tears of joyous emotion, as is usual in such 
cases, but the tears of disappointment, despondency, and dis- 
tress. The Crown Prince is a man of decided force and char- 
acter, and seems to have many amiable and pleasant qualities ; 
but he has never been able, apparently, to render himself either 
interesting or lovable to his wife. No doubt he would have 
been an excellent husband to many women ; but his wife is 
not of the number. The loose propensities of his father are 
charged upon him ; and there is good reason to believe that 
the current of marital loyalty does not flow uninten-uptedly 
in the HohenzoUem blood. 

The Crown Prince is a tall, well-formed, good-look- 
ing fellow, with clear blue 
eyes, flaxen hair, and pro- 
nounced but regular fea- 
tures. He is popular both 
with the army and the 
people— probably for the 
reason that he is regarded 
as much more liberal than 
his father, who has never 
awakened any enthusiasm 
among his subjects. He is 
represented as cynical in 
speech, but kind of heart, 
generous in sentiment and action, and singularly free from 
affectation or ostentation. The Liberals of Germany have 
much hope of Frederic William when he ascends the throne, 
which, in the nature of things, he must do ere long. Unless 
he undergo some great change, he will be far more welcome 
than his father has been, to whose death his subjects will be 
duly resigned. 




PALACE OP THE CROWN PRINCE. 




CHAPTER XLYII. 

THE PRUSSIAN AKMY AND ITS CHIEFS. 

HE Prussian military organization, the most 
effective whicli exists at present in any coun- 
try, is founded on the principle that every 
citizen owes service to the land of his birth. 
Every Prussian is by law a soldier, though in 
consequence of the limitation of the army, all citizens 
may not be compelled to enter it except in extreme 
cases. The regular* army is composed of men of from 
twenty to twenty-five years of age, whose active term 
of service is three years. For students, teachers, and profes- 
sional men generally, the term of service is one year only. 
After serving his term in the regular army, the Prussian enters 
the landwehr (the militia), di\dded into two levies — the first 
including all men between twenty-six and thirty-two, and the 
second all men between thirty-three and thirty-nine years of 
age. The first levy spends several weeks every year in drilling 
and acquiring the duties of practical soldiers, and in the event 
of war is employed like the regular army. The second levy 
is subject to be ordered out in time of war for the purpose of 
garrisoning fortresses. All citizens over thirty-nine, and under 
sixty years, make up the irregular militia (landsturm), who, in 
case of an invasion of a country, act as a home guard, but are 
never called out for ofi'ensive action, save in extreme cases. 
The regular army consists of infantry, cavalry, artillery, and 
pioneers. The first levy of the landwehr is composed of 
thirty-six regiments, and eight batallions of reserve infantry 
(116 batallions in all), and of thirty-four regiments and eight 



362 PRINCE FREDERIC CHARLES. 

reserve companies (144 companies), of cavalry. The army is 
divided into a corps of guards (liead-quarters at Berlin), and 
eight army corps, each corps nmnbering during war 23,000 in- 
fantry, 4,800 cavalry, and 88 field pieces. 

The advantage of such a military organization over con- 
scription, as in France, from which inununity may be pur- 
chased, has been shown again and again on well-fought fields, 
and never more convincingly than during the late war. The 
system insures educated soldiers, and is despotically democratic 
inasmuch as it makes no distinction as to rank, position or in- 
fluence. The Germans owe their extraordinary success over 
the French more to the superiority of their private soldiers, to 
their self-discipline and educated courage than to anything 
else. The French have been the most mihtary nation in Eu- 
rope; but over-weaning confidence in themselves, ignorance 
of others, want of intelligence and patience under defeat, have 
contributed to their overthrow. Thp late war, with all its disas- 
ters, must result in good to the nation. It will make them 
freer ; insure a system of general education ; open their eyes 
to the fallacy that military glory should be the chief end and 
aim of a country determined to be great. Behind all the 
clouds of the present the sun is rising, which will make France 
fairer and brighter, better and nobler than she has ever been. 

Of the numerous German generals in the late war, I shall 
make mention only of the few who have been most prominent 
before the public. 

Probably, the ablest commander in the field is Prince 
Frederic Charles, son of the popular Prince Frederic, and 
nephew of the Emperor William. He was born March 20, 
1828, and entered the army when hardly ten years old. He is 
a soldier by nature, ha\dng studied the campaigns of Frederic 
the Great for weeks and months when a mere boy, and having 
spent whole nights over the "Seven Years War." 

In his twentieth year he took part in the Schleswig-Holstein 
contest, having been assigned to the staff of the commander-in- 
chief, and was noted for his daring, especially at the battle of 
Schleswig, where he exposed his life most recklessly. A year 



A DESPERATE BATTLE. 



363 



later, he distinguished himself at Baden, and, during the fif- 
teen years of peace which followed, he studied hard, and made 
himself acquainted with all the branches and details of military- 
science. He commanded a Prussian division in the war against 
Denmark. Observing that Diippell, a strongly-fortified place, 




PRINCE rKEDERIC CHARLES. 



was the key to some of the best Danish positions, he deter- 
mined to assault it. Twice he attacked, and twice he and his 
brave followers were repulsed with great loss of life ; but a 
third time he rallied them, and, with the flag of the regiment 
of royal guards in his hand, he led them to a bloody victory. 
The Prince was called to the command of the first division 



364 GENERAL VON MOLTKE. 

of the Prussian army in the Austrian war, and gained many- 
laurels by his skill and courage. He contributed greatly to the 
brilliant success of the Prussians at Sadowa. He sent word to 
the Crown Prince to cooperate with him in attacking the 
Austrians in a position fortunately chosen and well defended 
by artillery ; but without waiting for his cousin to come up, 
hurled himself with tremendous force against the foe. He 
was driven back in spite of the most heroic bravery; but, 
renewing the attack with the aid of the Crown Prince, the 
enemy was forced to retreat, and the day and the war were won. 

Frederic Charles is the author of many reforms in the 
army ; is a superb tactician, and understands equally well the 
theory and the practice of war. He is tall, well-built, muscu- 
lar and energetic in movement. His face is grave, even stern, in 
repose, but pleasant and winning in social converse. His man- 
ners are rather brusque : he talks but little, for his habits are 
military, and his temperament tacitm*n. He looks older than 
he is, which may be accounted for by his severe studies and his 
general inclination to hard work. Many of the victories of the 
Germans in the late war must be ascribed to Prince Frederic 
Charles, who crowned himself during the terrible struggle with 
new military honors. 

Helmuth Charles Yon Moltke, now a Baron, born at 
Gnewitz, in Mecklenburg-Schwerin, October 26, 1800, en- 
tered the service of Denmark early in life, and afterward that 
of Prussia. In 1835 he made a voyage to the Orient, and was 
presented to the Sultan Mahmoud. He obtained a furlough 
from his government to superintend military reforms in Tur- 
key, and assisted at the campaign in Syria in 1839. Peturn- 
ing to Prussia, he was made aide-de-camp in 1846 to Prince 
Henry, who had retired to Pome; ten years later served 
Prince Frederic William in the same capacity, and soon after 
was chosen chief-of-staff of the army. He was prominent in 
the Danish war ; prepared the plan of campaign against Austria ; 
was chosen general of infantry, and accompanied the Emperor, 
then King William, to the field. After Sadowa he was deco- 
rated with the order of the Black Eagle. 



AUTHOR OF THE FRENCH CA3IPAIGN. 



365 



It is said that the plan of the campaign against France was 
drawn up by Moltke before the Rhine had been crossed, and 
that it was followed rigidly, with very few variations. It is 
quite clear now that the Germans were better acquainted with 
the resources of the French than were the French themselves. 
They knew every line of defence, and the strength of every 




BARON VON MOLTKE. 



fortified position, and had drawings of all the fortresses in the 
countiy. They knew how weak the enemy was, while the 
enemy himself had never suspected the fact. 

Moltke is a hale, vigorous, cheerful old man, with whom 
powder-burning seems to agree. He is a universal favorite ; 
enjoys a pipe, a good stoiy, and a glass of beer, as much as any 



366 OTHER PROMINENT GENERALS. 

son of Fatherland. His years do not seem to have told upon 
him at all, and he is fond of saying that young men like him- 
self can bear any amount of hardship or exposure. He looks 
every inch a soldier. His face is severe when in repose, 
and expresses a determined will. His features are neither reg- 
ular nor handsome ; but his eye and chin are the kind one 
would select for the leader of a forlorn hope. He is now, I be- 
lieve, a widower, and childless. 

Another very young old man is Charles Frederic de 
Steinmetz, born December 27, 1Y96. He served in the cam- 
paigns against l^apoleon, and later in life was employed a 
number of years by the government in topographical engineer- 
ing. He was active in the war of the duchies ; played a prom- 
inent part in the brief contest with Austria, and in 1867 was 
elected member of the diet of ISTorth Germany. Very soon 
after Sedan, he was removed from his command for pressing 
the enemy too vigorously, and thereby deranging one of Yon 
Moltke's excellent plans. 

General Yon Werder did much of the heavy fighting that 
preceded the close of the war, and is a well-trained and capa- 
ble soldier. He has seen nearly half a century of service. 
He was for some time under the command of the Crown Prince, 
and on one occasion is said to have saved the life of the heir 
apparent. 

Albert Theodore Yon Koon, born in Colberg, April 30, 
1803, was educated at the Prussian military school, and after- 
ward became a military teacher at Berlin. In his twenty- 
eighth year he entered the army, and advanced step by step 
until he was made a Major-General in 1858, and subsequently 
minister of war. Duiing the Aiistrian campaign, he proved to 
what excellence the process of mobilization had been carried in 
Prussia, and by his knowledge and skill did much to secure the 
triumph of his country. 

Edwin Charles Manteuffel, born Februarj^ 24, 1809, is the 
son of the president of the superior court of Magdeburg. At 
seventeen, he entered the Dragoons of the Guard ; filled va- 
rious military and diplomatic positions ; was sent to St. Peters- 



GENERAL MANTEUFFEL. 



367 



burg to render tlie Czar favorable to the overrunning of Ger- 
many by Prussia, and proved liimself, on the whole, an excel- 
lent and valuable servant to the Crown. As a man he is stern 
and severe, and has been frequently charged with oppressing 
his own countrymen. He is an earnest advocate of duty 
under all circumstances, and does not hesitate to discharge it 
himself at whatever cost to the feelings of others. He has 
never been popular ; but he is much liked by the Emperor 
and Bismarck, whose too willing tool he has often been ac- 
cused of being. Manteuffel is thoroughly a soldier, and looks 
a good deal like General Fremont. Careless of the graces and 
amenities of life, he understands only what it is to order and 
obey. 





CHAPTER XLVIII. 

MONT CENIS. 

HE railway over Mont Cenis does not detract 
from the romance of its passage, for you go 
over it very much as in a diligence, and fol- 
low the road closely. You move quite slowly in 
general, so as to enable you to see every object. 
The train is made up of two or three light cars, 
and as I hung out of the window and over the side, 
I felt as if I were walking across the mountain. The grades 
are the heaviest I have seen. They seem as if they must be 
a thousand feet to the mile, and the sharpness of the curves 
is remarkable. I should not have believed the engine could 
pull up such steeps if I had not seen it. Looking ahead we 
noticed the track, and it appeared to be laid at an angle we 
could not surmount. At Lanslebourg, where we stopped for 
ten minutes — it is at the base of Cenis — I looked up at the 
snowy summits so far above us, and could not think that in 
less than an hour we should reach them. But we did, though 
the engine had all it could do, and appeared sometimes as 
if it would be obliged to back down literally. 

When we were at the top of Cenis we had a magnificent 
view, worth walking there to see. The valley, dotted with 
cottages, auberges, and hamlets lay below. To the right and 
left, behind and before, towered the Alpine range, snowy and 
rocky at the top, green with fir and pines on the sides and at 
the brow. Then there were cascades leaping down the moun- 
tain sides, ridges and rocks of magnificent proportions, dashes 
of softness and wildness of beauty and sublimity on every 
hand that no one could fail to admire. 



MAGNIFICENT VIEW. 369 

Going from St. Michel to Susa you get a just idea of the 
entire Alps, save the glaciers. They all pass before you pan- 
orama like, and you are filled with their varied grandeur. If 
any one has not the time to visit Switzerland, he can have the 
Alps condensed by entering Italy by way of Susa and Turin. 

Our descent to Susa was toward evening, and the mellow 
moonlight lent a fine effect to the scenery we whirled through. 
I was reminded of a confused but exciting dream of gorgeous 
landscapes tumbling over cataracts, and of mountains playing 
bo-peep with one another. I could have sped on in the mood 
-I was in for hours and hours without fatigue ; and when the 
train paused at Susa, it was with a. sense of regret, as when 
one is waked from a delightful vision of the night, that I got 
out of the little box of a car in which I had enjoyed five hours 
of the best sight^seeing I have experienced in Europe. 

As the great work of the Mont Cenis Tunnel is completed, 
an account of its beginning and progress, with some of the diffi- 
culties and obstacles in the way of its continuance, can hardly 
be without interest. 

For four or five years after the Tunnel was determined on, 
the matter was discussed again and again by the Italian Par- 
liament and press, and all kinds of theories, especially of the 
adverse sort, advanced in the most energetically stupid man- 
ner. A great many men who claimed to be supremely scien- 
tific — there is no simpleton so genuine as the scientific sim- 
pleton — made it clear to themselves that the Tunnel could 
not by any possibility be made. They ransacked their imag- 
ination for formidable bugbears, and revealed a capacity for 
suggesting the unknown and terrible which proved their in- 
tellectual right to rank as countrymen of Dante. It was 
gravely predicted that all the workmen who engaged in the 
undertaking would perish by fire, water, and noxious gases ; 
that all the elements, in a word, would conspire against the 
audacity and folly of the enterprise. After these victims of 
ingenious fancy had demonstrated that it was entirely useless 
to attempt the work, the work was begun in serious earnest, 
and has gone on steadily ever since. The obstacles, though 



370 CONSTRUCTING THE TUNNEL. 

great and almost countless, have been altogether of a different 
nature from those that were prophesied. 

I have never been able to understand why the name of Mont 
Cenis should be attached to the famous Tunnel, since that 
mountain is 17 or 18 miles from the French entrance atFour- 
neaux, and more than 20 from the Italian entrance at Bar- 
doneche. The Tunnel passes under three peaks, called the 
Col Frejus, the Grand Vallon, and the Col de la Roue ; the 
first being on the French, the third on the Italian slope, and 
the second almost equi-distant between the two. Mont Cenis 
enjoys the honor of the Tunnel's baptism, I presume, from 
the fact that it is much better known than any of the sum- 
mits or ranges in the neighborhood ; and, moreover, it sim- 
plifies matters to give the Tunnel a name which does not 
belong to it, rather than to call it after any one of the three 
deserving of equal distinction. 

The most direct way to the Tunnel from the French side is 
to go by rail to St. Michel, a wretched little Savoyard village, 
which one is not likely to forget, particularly if obliged to stay 
over night at the Hotel de I'Union, where everything is boun- 
tifully supplied but cleanliness, comfort, and convenience. 
From St. Michel you are compelled either to walk or ride in 
some rustic conveyance to Fourneaux, a distance of about 
eight miles, which seems sixteen before you arrive at your 
destination. Fourneaux is a miserable hamlet in a narrow 
gorge in the valley of the Arc, the inhabitants of which are 
chiefly remarkable for deformity and idiocy of the most re- 
pulsive sort. The Grand Vallon is 11,000 feet above the 
sea-level, and crowned with snow, while its sides are covered 
with firs and pines which look almost black under a cloudy 
sky. All about the valley Alps rise on Alps, and seem to shut 
it in from the outer world. The scenery is grand and impos- 
ing, and, like most of that in Savoy and Switzerland, in mark- 
ed contrast with the forbidding, not to say revolting, appear- 
ance of the native population. 

The work was actually begun on the Italian side in 1857, 
>and continued for four years, when, about 1,000 yards having 



MACHINES USED. 371 

been completed, the perforators were called into requisition. 
The common mode of tunneling is to sink vertical wells at 
proper distances, and work through from one to the other ; 
but this was not practicable in the Mont Cenis enterprise, as 
40 or 50 years would have been necessary to have made the 
wells sufficiently deep. The only feasible plan was to begin 
boring at the opposite ends ; and then the difficulty was to 
supply air to the workmen at a distance of two or three miles 
from the outer entrance. The ordinary motive power, steam, 
needs fire for its generation, and fire needs air for its support. 
Consequently steam could not be used ; and, after long delib- 
eration and countless experiments, compressed air was em- 
ployed. The perforating machine that has wrought the Tun- 
nel is moved by common air compressed to one-sixth its nat- 
ural bulk, which, when liberated, exercises an expansive force 
equal to that of six atmospheres. The machine is composed 
of 17 or 18 upright iron tubes, in which, by a vibratory motion 
caused by the rise and fall of water, and regulated by pistons 
in the tubes, the air, as I have said, is compressed one-sixth. 
As the piston ascends it forces the water up, compressing the 
air and driving it into a reservoir. As the piston descends a 
valve is opened near the top, and through the valve the air 
rushes into the vacuum, is in turn compressed, and also forced 
into the reservoir. From the reservoir a large iron pipe, ren- 
dered air-tight, conveys the compressed air into the Tunnel. 
Ten of the perforators are kept constantly at work. The drills, 
working by the compressed air, keep steadily boring the rock 
at the average rate of nine feet a day. 

During the surveys preceding the selection of the spot for 
the Tunnel, it was discovered that the Rivers Arc and Dora 
in their windings were at a certain point less than eight miles 
apart, and at this point it was evident Nature designed the 
great work should be constructed. The mouth of the Tunnel 
is 350 feet above the level of the valley, as was necessary from 
the fact that the valleys of the Arc and the Dora are at differ- 
ent heights above the sea-level. The inequality is regulated 



372 ^A^ UNDERGROUND BLAST 

by grades, so that, entering at Fourneaux, the lower side, you 
come out at Bardoneche at the proper level. 

For some time after the Tunnel was begun, any and all 
visitors were admitted ; but, as the work advanced, it became 
necessary to adopt stricter rules. Permission was given to 
inspect the Tunnel on two fixed days of the month ; and if 
any person of influence or position, particularly a journalist, 
wished to examine the work at any time, he had little diffi- 
culty in doing so. When you have obtained permission, you 
are taken in charge by the director of the workmen, who 
gives you a long India-rubber coat and a lighted lamp, at- 
tached to half a yard of wire, and with these you set out upon 
your subterranean journey. 

The entrance is about 25 feet wide, and as many in height. 
A double railway track runs into the Tunnel, carrying in the 
various implements and the stone for the mason work, and 
bringing out the fragments of broken and blasted rock. At 
each side of the Tunnel is a narrow sidewalk of flagstones, 
and the air conduit is ranged along the side of the gallery, 
while between the lines of rails, in a deep trench, are the gas 
and water pipes. The Tunnel, as may be supposed, is very 
damp, and a number of little streams percolate through the 
rocky sides and roof. A temporary wooden partition divides 
the Tunnel into two equal galleries, above and below ; the 
rarefied air from the lower gallery rising and passing out 
through the upper, while fresh air comes into the lower to 
supply its place. After going some distance, you lose sight 
of the patch of daylight furnished by the entrance, and find 
yourself in the midst of darkness which seems positively tan- 
gible. You soon see glimmering through the blackness a 
number of lights, and hear rumbling sounds, which proceed 
from the wagons carrying out the various debris. 

The part of the Tunnel finished on the French side, when 
I was in the vicinity of Mont Cenis, was something over two 
miles and a half, and furnished very easy walking. Then 
came the portion of the gallery which, having been opened by 
the perforators, was now enlarging by the ordinary hand pro- 



DRILLING FOR A BLAST. gyg 

cess. There the passage over fragments of rocks, past wagons 
moving to and fro, and in the face of various obstacles, be- 
comes difficult and somewhat tiresome. Before you have pro- 
ceeded far, the guide will request you to pause for a while, 
and you will probably sit down in the rugged gallery, not 
more than nine or ten feet wide, to await what you know 
must be a blast. In that dreary cavern, nearly three miles 
from the outer world, and with more than a mile of Alps tow- 
ering above your head, you expect to be almost deafened by 
the sound of the explosion. But it is very different from 
what it would be in the open air — a dull, heavy rumble, echo- 
ing and reechoing through the gallery, and seeming to shake 
the mountains from base to summit. One explosion follows 
another in rapid succession, and, after seven or eight, the 
wooden doors, which are closed just before the blast, are 
opened again, and the clouds of thick, yellow smoke come 
pouring through the Tunnel in such density and volume as to 
be painful, if not dangerous, to persons with weak lungs. The. 
guide then gives you a sign to go on, and you soon get beyond 
the suffocating atmosphere into one comparatively fresh and 
pure. 

Before long you reach the end of the Tunnel, and see the 
carriage or platform supporting the perforators actively at 
work. They so scatter sparks of fire from the rock as to re- 
mind you of small Catherine wheels. The motive power of 
the perforator is conveyed to it from the conduit by a flexible 
pipe throwing the compressed air into a cylinder placed hori- 
zontally along the carriage, which the Italians call the affusto. 
In the cylinder is a piston, to which is attached a sharp drill 
nearly three feet long. The motion of the piston drives the 
drill against the rock, and by a complicated piece of machin- 
ery gives it a rotary motion. 

The drill makes 200 revolutions a minute, and as the force 
of each stroke upon the rock is some 200 pounds, the power 
the drill exercises is equivalent to about 40,000 pounds a min- 
ute. The hardest substance the workmen encounter is white 
quartz, and through it the progress is necessarily slow — not 



374 



ACCIDENTS IN THE TUNNEL. 



much more than half that made through hornblende, mica, 
and slate. The first difficulty in beginning the perforation is 
to make a hole large enough to confine the drill. That once 
made, the drill works back and forth and rotates with remark- 
able regularity, assisted by a stream of water to facilitate the 
boring process. For blasting, about 90 holes, three feet in 
depth and two to three inches in diameter, are bored in the 
ordinary rock. The holes are charged with powder and tam- 
ped, when, the miners withdrawing behind the wooden doors, 
the slow match is ignited, and the explosion takes place. So 
the labor continues day and night, week after week, includ- 
ing Sundays, month after month, year after year. The work- 
men are divided into three reliefs. Eight hours are given to 
labor, and sixteen to rest. For all this hard, unvarying and 
perilous toil in an unwholesome and poisonous atmosphere, 
the common laborers receive, I have been told, only three 
francs a day, and those who have more skill and experience, 
.but five francs. 

The wear and tear of machinery in the tunnel is very 
great. The drills have to be changed every few minutes, 
and it is estimated that at least 2,500 perforators have been 
used up. 

One would naturally suppose that frequent accidents would 
be unavoidable in such a gigantic undertaking, and I have 
been told that more than 1,000 workmen had lost their lives 
up to the summer of 1869. The guides and directors, how- 
ever, had a different story. They declared that not more than 
50 or 60 men had been killed outright, though a number of 
others had been seriously wounded. Their statement, I sup- 
pose, is to be taken with allowance. I have always found 
that casualties of any kind diminish in proportion to the in- 
terest of the persons who report them. Most of the accidents 
occurred on the railway, from the falling of rock, and from 
premature explosions ; but many others which defy classifica- 
tion were constantly taking place. The day before, or the 
day after my visit, a premature explosion killed, as I was in- 
formed, five men and wounded nine others, three of them 



RATE OF PROGRESS. 375 

fatally. I heard, too, that a week previous a rock had fallen 
and crushed three men to death. I therefore concluded, by a 
very simple rule of three, that, if eleven men lost their lives 
in one week, it was hardly probable only fifty or sixty should 
be mortally hurt in twelve years. 

I have mentioned the average rate of progress through the 
tunnel at nine feet a day ; but this is an estimate rather than 
a fact. It is almost impossible to give an exact average, 
owing to the difference in the material which the drills en- 
countered. As the work advanced, the rate of progress dimin- 
ished. Through the quartz the workmen did not make some- 
times more than 16 to 19 inches a day. During the month 
of May, before the quartz had been reached, they made an 
advance of 93 metres (a metre is 39tVV English inches) ; dur- 
ing June, when the quartz first began to appear, 48 metres ; 
during July, 17 ; and during August, only 12. If it had not 
been for the quartz, it is probable that the tunnel would have 
been completed more than two years ago. It was thought 
that the work would be finished early last spring. 

In the excavating gallery the temperature ranged from 70 
to 85 degrees Fahrenheit all the year round, and the differ- 
ence between the inside of the Tunnel and the external at- 
mosphere was often from 35 to 45 degrees. 

The perforators were not introduced into the Tunnel at 
Fourneaux (the French side) until 1863, two years after they 
had been in use on the Italian side. 

The air-compressing establishment at Fourneaux (there was 
a similar one at Bardoneche) was on the banks of the Arc, 
about three-quarters of a mile from the mouth of the Tunnel, 
and was well worth a visit, especially from those who feel an 
interest in ingenious mechanical contrivances. 

The amount of money expended on the Tunnel I have heard 
variously estimated at 100,000,000 to 150,000,000 francs; but 
I should suppose, when the entire cost is footed up, that it 
might be more. 

Since the beginning of this, the greatest achievement in 
engineering yet undertaken, at least in modern times, the pre- 



376 



VL TIM A TE SDCCESS. 



dictions have been numerous that the work would never be 
finished. Time and again the report has been circulated of 
the abandonment of the enterprise as hopelessly impracti- 
cable; and yet, as I have said, the labor went on steadily, and 
without serious interruption, at both entrances, from the first 
day of its practical beginning. The Italian engineers, Grandis, 
Grattoni, and Sommellier, mainly contributed, with sugges- 
tions from Bartlett's rock-perforating invention, to the forma- 
tion of the ingenious apparatus which has been so successfully 
employed in the construction of the Tunnel. They specu- 
lated and experimented so long and so energetically upon 
their ideas and plans that their final triumph was hailed by 
their friends with as much surprise as satisfaction. Those 
who have gone over the Mont Cenis pass either by diligence 
or by rail, and remember how wearisome and tedious, from a 
mere practical stand-point, the journey has been, will be de- 
lighted to know that they can do in a few minutes, with the 
help of the Tunnel, what has heretofore required several hours 
of fatiguing travel. The Tunnel will make the route between 
Fourneaux and Susa very direct and vastly shorter than the 
present wandering and circuitous road from St. Michel to the 
old Italian town lying at the base of Mont Cenis. It is some- 
wliat remarkable that this immense work, which was begun 
later than the Hoosac Tunnel — not over four miles long in- 
stead of nearly eight, as the Cenis enterprise is, and nothing 
like so difficult or so complicated a piece of engineering — 
should be completed two years before the end of the Massa- 
chusetts bore is even predicted. 

We Americans are so accustomed, and not without reason, 
to plume ourselves upon the accomplishment of great material 
and practical enterprises, that it would seem more natural for 
us to have made the Mont Cenis Tunnel than for the French 
and Italians to have surpassed us in what we are pleased to 
consider our proper field. Much as we have done, and more 
that we shall do, it is altogether likely that the completion 
of the Mont Cenis Tunnel will stand, for generations as the 
greatest feat of engineering the world has yet known. 




CHAPTER XLIX. 

SWITZERLAND AND NORTHERN ITALY. 

HEN the tourist seeks to enter Switzerland 
through Northern Italy, traveling by diligence, 
and steaming over lakes Como, Lecco, Lugano 
and Maggiore, it is very difficult for him to de- 
termine in which country he is. 

The geographical lines of the picturesque 
region are very puzzling, especially as regards 
boundaries. One hour you are in Switzerland, and the next 
in Italy. This ride of a mile is Italian, and the other Swiss. 
The top of a hill belongs to Victor Emanuel, and the base to 
one of the cantons. You only know when you have reached 
Italy by the fact that your baggage is examined by the cus- 
tom-house officers, but in such a polite and quiet manner 
compared to that of our own country that, remembering your 
serious annoyances at the port of New York, you are, for the 
time being, biased in favor of monarchical governments. 

I have grave doubts whether the people who live thereabouts 
know to what nationality they belong themselves. They are 
certainly a mongrel race — a mixture of Italian, French, and 
German, speaking all languages but their own, and having 
the defects of three different countries, with few of their re- 
deeming virtues. 

It has been the fashion of us at home to speak of the Swiss 
in the most laudatory terms, and to put them forward as the 
representatives of all that is honest, independent, and noble 
in character. I am afraid we have rather idealized the 
Swiss, as we are apt to do everything that is far away, and to 
attribute to them on account of their republicanism some 



378 FIGHTING FOR MONEY. 

qualities that are not theirs. They have many virtues. They 
are sturdy, brave, and devoted to freedom. 

But they are not so upright, generous, and chivalrous as we 
have supposed. They have a splendid, but sterile country, 
where the commonest means of livelihood are procured with 
such difficulty that every thought and effort must be directed 
to that end. Under such circumstances, whatever the dispo- 
sition, generosity is impossible. Men who are compelled to 
constant toil can not be liberal any more than beggars can 
give sumptuous entertainments. "Where all exertion is 
toward material support, the mental and spiritual being must 
be neglected. In a word Switzerland is too poor in soil to 
be rich in manners, for the graces and attractions are born of 
the superfluous, and without them the quality of interest is 
rare. 

Switzerland has received enormous credit for retaining her 
independence in the midst of monarchies and empires. Un- 
questionably she has fought long and well ; but she owes her 
political republicanism even more to her position than to her 
prowess. The country is almost inaccessible to armies, and 
even if subjugated, the attempt to hold it would be folly. Her 
nationality, in the strict sense, she has not preserved. She 
has been overrun and conquered mentally by her imperial 
neighbors, and she is each and all of them by turns rather 
than herself. She can not be said to be attached to freedom 
as a principle, for her soldiers fight on any side that pays best. 
The most despotic powers in Europe have Swiss in their 
armies, and the military citizens of the cantons have long 
been regarded as mercenaries. 

I remember the reply of the Genevan to the Parisian officer 
who declared that the Swiss fought for money, and the French 
for honor. " Oh, yes, that is very true. Every nation fights 
for what it has least of." 

The Genevan was half correct. The Swiss are so poor they 
have little power to choose ; and whenever money is to be had 
the temptation is difficult to resist. Still, it is not easy to 
grow enthusiastic over men who, while vaunting of their in- 



UNPLEASANT COMPANIONS. 379 

dependence and their love of liberty, will sustain for hire the 
supremest despotism. 

My own experience with hotel proprietors, guides, servants, 
and diligence managers in that country has not been of a kind 
to prepossess me in its favor. As a class I have found them 
much less fair-dealing and more disingenuous than Italians, 
whose reputation among travelers has never been good. I 
have been made the victim of little swindles among the Alps 
that are not practiced in the Appennines ; and, on the whole, 
I prefer Naples, Rome and Florence to Berne, Chamonix and 
Geneva. If you object to an overcharge in your bill in Italy, 
the landlord usually corrects it cheerfully. In Switzerland 
he either attempts to justify it, or flies off to collateral issues. 
A Switzer considers it so much his duty to make something 
out of you that it is hard for him to forego what he regards 
both an obligation and a satisfaction. The Swiss may be ex- 
tremely honest ; but they have taken a singular method of 
revealing their honesty to me. 

The traveler in Switzerland is constantly struck with the 
difference between the country and the people. The contrast 
is painful ; for the magnificence of the one throws into bolder 
relief the wretchedness of the other. Excessive toil and ir- 
remediable poverty, have made the Swiss as a people homely, 
misshapen, hard. Nature has sought to balance her prodi- 
gality to the land by niggardliness to its inhabitants. As if 
the' absence of all grace and comeliness were not enough, she 
has added goiter and cretinism to their misfortunes. 
Throughout the Rhine Valley, and the Yale of Chamonix, 
unsightly creatures glare at you on all sides. You turn from 
a lofty peak, or a magnificent gorge, to a monstrously swollen 
neck or a gibbering imbecile. Your admiration for a 
picturesque cascade or a splendid glacier is interrupted by 
the petition of a hideous cripple or the stare of a wandering 
idiot. 

Beggars are as numerous there as in many parts of Italy, 
and far more repulsive. They lack the picturesqueness, the 
ingenuity, the professional ease, of the ItaUans, who often 
amuse, while the others always disgust 



380 LAKE COMO. 

The good deities deliver me henceforth and forever from 
Swiss beggars, Swiss goiter, and Swiss cretins ! They are so 
revolting that the Zermatt Valley, the Mont Blanc chain, and 
the Bernese Oberland are all requisite to make amends for 
them. 

Lago di Como, or Lake Como, has probably obtained more 
reputation from the popularity of Bulwer's pinchbeck pro- 
duction than from any other source. The lake is certainly 
beautiful, but I doubt if the author had visited it when he 
wrote the Lady of Lyons. Otherwise he would not have 
made Claude speak of the perfumed light stealing through 
the orange groves. Oranges do not grow to any extent spon- 
taneously even as far south as Rome, and Como is one of 
the most northern points of Italy. I might suppose Bulwer 
caused Melnotte to make the mistake to show the youth's 
ignorance of what he had never seen ; but that would not be 
like the self-conscious Lytton, who usually tells all he knows. 
Thackeray might be suspected of such a stroke of art ; but 
it would be too fine for Bulwer. 

Como is the Lacus Larius that Yirgil praises in the Geor- 
gics (give me credit for not quoting his honeyed hexameters), 
and it merits all his praise. It does not seem like a lake, but 
a river ; for it is so shut in by hills and mountains on both 
sides that you can rarely see a quarter of a mile before or 
behind you. It is about thirty-six miles long, though scarcely 
three miles wide at its broadest point, and in some places over 
eighteen hundred feet deep. It somewhat resembles the 
Rhine, but is much more beautiful and imposing ; the moun- 
tains on each bank being often seven thousand feet high. 
These mountains rise from the very border of the lake, and 
are covered with verdure and foliage from the base to the 
summit — something we neVer see in this country. 

The high land is dotted with cottages and villas (many of 
them situated at the water's edge) of the most tasteful and 
elaborate description. Not a few of the villas are the summer 
residences of the noble and wealthy families of Milan, and 
with their handsome gardens, white statues gleaming through 



CLAUDE AND PAULINE. 381 

the trees, picturesque buildings, and artificial grottoes, seem 
as if they might be the very home of poetic content. 

I did not observe Claude's palace, though I directed my 
lorgnette on every side in search of it. I suppose after mar- 
rying Pauline she grew extravagant, and so far exceeded her 
husband's income that he became bankrupt, and all his prop- 
erty was sold by the sheriff of the neighboring town. Claude 
was entirely too sentimental as a lover to succeed as a hus- 
band, and it is not to be wondered at that he let his wife 
ruin him. 

Women frequently say that men who talk poetry, and lav- 
ish all manner of tendernesses upon them, quite fail to under- 
stand the practicalities of domestic life. Such persons need 
management — the darling occupation of the feminine heart 
— and I fancy Mrs. Melnotte in undertaking the administra- 
tion of her liege-lord's affairs, speedily consigned them to 
what Mantalini calls the demnition bow-wows. 

Lakes Lecco and Lugano much resemble Como, though 
not so fine in their surroundings. They are all favorite 
places of sojourn, especially with the English, many of whom 
visit them year after year. Our " trans- Atlantic cousins " are 
different from us. When they find any place they like, they 
stay in it for some time, and visit it again and again. When 
we find a pleasant spot, we go somewhere else. The spirit 
of restlessness possesses us. We believe happiness exists 
everywhere but in the place we happen to be in. We pursue 
the phantom round the globe without discovering that it is a 
phantom, and die with an inherited notion that it is in the 
world to come. 

Cadenabbia on Como, Menaggio at the intersection of Como 
and Lecco, and Lugano on the lake of that name, are very 
pleasant points of sojourn. The hotels there are good, but, 
like those of watering-places generally, far from cheap. They 
all have fine lake and mountain views, and would be charm- 
ing spots for the honeymoon, which a whispering cynic terms 
a sentimental truce preceding the battle of domesticity. 

I have occupied chambers in that vicinity, commanding 



382 FAVORITE PLACES OF SOJOURN. 

such skies and waters and steeps as must have made them 
delightful to the dullest eye and the most unimaginative 
mind. 

I went from Locarno to Arena by boat on a clear, delight- 
ful day, and enjoyed the deep green water of Lago Maggiore, 
the light blue sky, and the ever-changing shores quite as 
much as I had anticipated. The northern or upper part of 
the lake is the finest, being bordered by lofty mountains, 
nearly all of them wooded, while the lower end becomes sub- 
dued in character as it approaches the plains of Lombardy. 
Like Como, Maggiore resembles a broad river, and is con- 
stantly losing itself among the high lands through which it 
flows. Its average width is three miles and its length forty- 
five, while its depth in some places is nearly twenty-seven 
hundred feet. As far as Stresa, Maggiore is an uninterrupted 
picture — painted in water colors, of course — which, once 
seen, is long remembered. The scenery is altogether Italian, 
as it ought to be, nearly the whole lake lying in Italy, but 
much softer and more luxurious than you would look for so 
far north. 

Numerous handsome villas and towns nestle along the 
banks of the river under the shadow of the mountains, ap- 
pearing and disappearing while you steam along, as if they 
were playing the coquette with nature who shelters them so 
gracefully. Locarno is what boarding-school sentimentalists 
would call a sweet village, with its planes and elms festooned 
with vines, its orange and citron trees, its pretty campanile 
and pleasant chapels. The slopes above the town are cov- 
ered with olives, myrtle, pomegranates and fig-trees, and the 
whole aspect of the neighborhood is luxuriously southern. 

Across from Luino are two half-ruined and singular-looking 
castles, which in the Middle Ages harbored half a dozen 
notorious brigands, known as the Mazzarda brothers, who for 
years pillaged and burned, outraged women and murdered 
men, until they grew to be the terror of the neighborhood, 
and were believed from their frequent escapes to be in league 
with the devil. 



BORROMEAN ISLANDS. 383 

Tradition represents them as handsome and gallant fel- 
lows ; but I am sure they were vulgar villains who would 
have robbed their grandmother of her last farthing, and have 
beaten her because she had no more for them to steal. That 
prosaic probability does not, however, destroy the romance 
of the association, for robbers' ruined castles of the fifteenth 
century are too rare not to be welcome when presented in 
authentic shape. 

Near Intra you get a view of three magnificent mountains, 
the Stralhorn, Cima di Jazi, and Mischabel, which hide them- 
selves several times on the route, and then tower up again 
into the sky when you have ceased to expect them. But the 
most charming part of Maggiore is in the neighborhood of 
the Borromean Islands. There the lake broadens into a bay. 
Mountains are on both sides, and the green verdure of the 
hills rising from the water fades off gradually into the brown 
and barren distances of the Alps. 

The Borromean Islands are four in number — Bella, Supe- 
riore, Sa;n Giovanni and Madre — the first and last belonging 
to the family Borromeo, from whom they receive their name. 
Bella has long been famous, having been purchased two cen- 
turies ago by Count Borromeo, who from a barren rock con- 
verted it into a luxurious, but extremely artificial-looking 
garden. The island is crowded with fountains, statues, mo- 
saics and grottoes, and has ten terraces on which laurels, 
oleanders, cedars, cypresses, lemon and orange trees are 
planted in profusion. The chateau is gloomy, and wholly 
disproportioned to the size of the island. Jean Jacques, it is 
said, once thought of making it the scene of his burning ro- 
mance of " La Nouvelle Heloise," but concluded it too arti- 
ficial for his superlatively natural story. 

Isola Madre is laid out with walks, and more inviting than 
Bella. On the south side are many fine aloes, and I was 
pleased to see several of them in bloom. 

A singular statue is that which meets your eye as you 
steam into Arona. It is one of San Carlo Borromeo, Arch- 
bishop of Milan. It is sixty-six feet high, and rests on 



384 ALPINE PASSES. 

a pedestal of forty feet. The robe is of wrought copper, and 
the head, hands, and feet of bronze. The enormous figure is 
held together by clamps and masonry in the interior, and per- 
sons who have no objection to heat, dirt, and bats can ascend, 
as I did, by means of ladders and iron bars into the head, 
which will hold three grown men. 

A noticeable peculiarity of the Alpine passes is that the 
one you go over is always the grandest and most interesting. 
That is, you must say so to be in the fashion ; for all the trav- 
elers you meet give you such information. I have crossed 
by three passes, and may therefore be supposed to take a 
broad view of the subject. I am inclined to believe the St. 
Gothard the most attractive, and the Simplon and the Splugen 
next, though so many clamor for the St. Bernard, Brenner, 
Mont Cenis, and Bernina that they may settle the question 
among themselves. 

The Simplon is certainly the most famous. You remember 
that after the most arduous passage of the St. Bernard, Na- 
poleon determined to build a military road, and the Simplon 
was the result. The work, which is magnificent, required 
six years and about $4,000,000 for its completion. The dili- 
gence ride is long, nearly twenty-four hours, and would be 
tedious but for the impressive scenery scattered all along the 
route. I varied the monotony with walking, gathering Alpine 
roses, running here and there for a commanding view, and 
exploring the sombre recesses of the chalets, refuges, and hos- 
pices. The cascades, gorges, defiles, overhanging rocks, and 
snowy peaks were very interesting ; but I have seen few re- 
gions more crushingly desolate than the summit of the Simp- 
lon. The clouds hung over and around and below it ; a cold, 
sleety rain fell ; the icy glaciers showed their white tops like 
frozen ghosts, and the few habitations scattered about seemed 
incapable of supporting life as I stood on the dreary apex in 
the all-pervading, almost painful stillness of the place. 

I afterward entered the well-known Hospice, a large stone 
building at the base of Monte Leone, which rears its splendid 
head nearly three thousand feet above the Simplon. The 



DOWN THE MOUNTAIN. 385 

Hospice was founded by Napoleon for the reception of travel- 
ers, but was not finished until the Hospice of St. Bernard pur- 
chased it, some forty years ago. 

According to the prescribed custom I drank a glass of com- 
mon wine handed me by one of the members of the order, and 
left my contribution in the poor box. I thought while talking 
to the monk what a life was his, and wondered what view he 
took of the world. I did not ask him, however. He seemed 
cheerful and satisfied, and evidently had no fancy for meta- 
physical speculation. I could not help but pity his condition, 
and probably he pitied mine. I admired him for giving up 
everything for the good of his fellow-creatures ; for spending 
his days among the eternal snows for the sake of succorino- 
the distressed. He would have admired me, if he had had 
keen spiritual insight, for my resisting the temptation to an- 
noy him with abstruse questions he felt no interest in. The 
descent of the Simplon is sudden and rapid. We went down 
in about one-fifth of the time we had employed in going up. 
We dashed along at a fine rate, gradually getting out of the 
mists and into a milder temperature. After passing the Gal- 
lery of Guido we had a view of the Fressinone, recently swol- 
len by rains, dashing over the rocks, which, with the cliffs 
towering two thousand feet above our heads, made a striking 
picture — one that surpasses the famous Via Mala in the Splu- 
gen route. 

Down, down, down, we went, hanging over the broad val- 
leys and the winding streams; rolling through huge rocks, 
rent in twain by convulsions of Nature ; skirting precipices 
where tall trees growing below appeared like shrubs ; rattling 
along under jutting promontories of flint and ilex ; pausing at 
quaint towns with sharp spires and half stone, half wooden 
dwellings with overspreading roofs ; barked at by village 
dogs ; gazed at by homely wenches whose huge waists lay 
under their arms ; visible and invisible as we wheeled round 
the declivities of the mountains, and finally halted before the 
gasthof for the night, releasing our smoking horses from their 
rapid journey, and bestowing ourselves on a rude bench to 
smoke into fresh forms the memories of the Simplon Pass. 




CHAPTER L. 

IN SWITZERLAND. 

ITH Swiss cottages we associate a deal of ro- 
mance ; but seen on their native soil, they are 
extremely uninviting, and as little likely to at- 
tract lovers as the grave they talk so much 
about, and take such pains to keep out of. They 
resemble living tombs, are chilly, damp, and 
dreary enough. The fiercest passion that ever 
drove man to folly or woman to madness would be frozen in 
them. Cupid would contract the rheumatism, and the god- 
dess of affection herself would so suffer from catarrh and lum- 
bago as to forget her specialty. Love, to be herself, must be 
in good health. She seldom has physicians' bills to pay. 
When she does, she changes her name, and does the offices 
of pity. 

The cottages look picturesque perched on the few green 
places among the Alps ; but entered, they are no more invit- 
ing than Ugolino's dungeon. I don't wonder their inhabitants 
get so sallow and bilious, homely and hard-looking. It is the 
natural result of such habitations. Swiss cottages would have 
no sentimental aspect if their realities were known. It makes 
me chilly and half ill to think of life, or what is called life, in 
their grim unwholcsomeness. 

Lake Geneva, or L^man, has been so much lauded by Vol- 
taire, Goethe, and Byron; is so associated with Rousseau and 
Gibbon ; has been so sung and painted by bard and artist that 
it is likely to provoke disappointment. The largest of the 
Swiss lakes — fifty miles long and eight wide in its greatest 



CASTLE OF CHILLON. 387 

length and width — it is crescent-shaped, the two horns being 
inclined to the south, and differs from the others, more or less 
green, in being of a deep blue. Its blue color is ascribed by 
Sir Humphrey Davy — he lived for some years, and died at 
Geneva — to the presence of iodine — an opinion with which the 
native naturalists do not agree. Like Lake Constance, it is 
subject to changes of level ; the water in particular spots ris- 
ing occasionally several feet without perceptible motion or 
apparent cause, and falling again in fifteen or twenty minutes. 
The currents, produced by the rising of subterranean springs, 
are often very strong, and water-spouts sometimes occur. 
The eastern end of the Lake is much finer than the western, 
owing to the nearness of the mountains and the superior 
character of the scenery. The lateen sail of many of the 
vessels — seldom seen elsewhere except at Leghorn and in 
Scotland — adds to this picturesque effect. On the banks grow 
the sweet and wild chestnut, the walnut, the magnolia, the 
vine and the cedar of Lebanon, and are situated many beau- 
tiful villas. 

From V^vay one has a charming view of the lakes and the 
Alps of Yalais. One sees the rocks of Meillerie, and near by 
are Clarens, and all the romantic places that Rousseau has 
painted so vividly in his tale of longing and of love. A sail 
over the blue waters, and a walk upon the picturesque shore 
recall Julie, who, say what we may, is a natural woman. 

Vevay is delightfully situated, and he who wishes to culti- 
vate sentiniental companionship and the beautiful in nature 
will find the spot favorable. That is the place, above all 
others, to read "La Nouvelle Heloise," nearly all of whose 
scenes are within easy reach. 

The Castle of Chillon is not far from there. Of course, I 
visited it, for Byron's poem has made it famous. It stands 
on an isolated rock, is reached by a bridge, and is as gloomy 
as any one would desire, with its massive walls and towers. 
It is now used as an arsenal, but the dungeons in which 
Francis Bonnivard, the Abb^ of Corcier, and many reformers 
were confined, still remain, as does the ancient beam on 



388 CITY OF GENEVA. 

which the condemned were executed. " Crott der Kerr segne 
den Ein-und Ausgang, (May God bless all who come in and 
go out ! ") are the words inscribed by the Bernese in 1643 
over the Castellan's entrance. I wonder if He blessed me 
when I went in and came out. I forgot to ask. 

In the dungeons are eight pillars, — one of them half built 
into the wall — to which the prisoners were fettered. Thou- 
sands of names are inscribed on the columns, among them 
Byron's, but whether genuine or not is uncertain. The poet's 
prisoner was not, as many have thought, intended for Bonni- 
vard, of whose history he was unaware when he wrote the 
verses. 

A number of pleasant villages, as Chernex,Colouge8, Glion, 
Montreux, Vernex, and Veytaux, are scattered about the Lake 
and on the mountain, in the neighborhood of Yevay, and are 
much visited by strangers and tourists during the summer. 

Lausanne, the capital of the Canton of Vaud, has 20,000 
inhabitants, and is beautifully situated on the terraced slopes 
of Mont Jurat; but is less attractive after entering it. In the 
garden of the H6tel Gibbon, the celebrated historian com- 
pleted the "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire." Ouchy 
is the port of Lausanne, and the road to it from the Lake is 
lined with handsome villas. 

Geneva is the chief city of Switzerland (population 50,000), 
and being on the confines of Savoy, and easy of access from 
the different capitals, is quite cosmopolitan in character. It 
seems to be a favorite place of sojourn for Americans, who 
are largely represented at all the hotels, of which it can boast 
an extraordinary number of a superior class. 

Geneva is very pleasantly situated on the Lake and presents 
a handsome appearance as you see it from the water — an ap- 
pearance not sustained when you penetrate the interior or 
older portion of the town. The city, like many people who 
visit it, keeps its beauty for the outside, and will not bear in- 
ward examination. 

This is particularly true of many of our countrymen, who 
dash about there in showy carriages and make a grand display, 
but live very economically, not to say meanly, at home. 



GENEVA WATCRES. 389 

Geneva, as every one knows, is the centre and home of 
watch-making and watch-makers. One of the largest houses 
(Patek, Phillipe & Co.,) manufactures exclusively for the 
American market. I have been through their establishment, 
and have seen watches all the way from those that could be 
set in a ring to a large-sized chronometer, striking the quar- 
ters and playing tunes, overladen with carving and jewelry, 
and worth five or six thousand francs. Outside of our country 
such costly trinkets could hardly find purchasers. 

The process of manufacture is very interesting. From the 
bars of precious metals and the crude rubies you trace the 
fine work, through every delicate manipulation, until the 
chronometer is complete and perfect. A great deal less of 
the labor is performed by machinery than at Waltham or 
Elgin, and is consequently far more exact. "Watches that 
sell there for fifty or one hundred dollars cannot be bought in 
the United States for less than two or three times that price. 

The amount of labor expended on a Geneva watch is re- 
markable. Six or seven months are required for its comple- 
tion, and all who assist in it are slaves to their calling. The 
good watch-makers are obliged to lead regular, abstemious 
lives ; for their eyes must be keen ; their nerves steady ; their 
minds unembarrassed ; even their digestion perfect. Mental 
anxiety, a little dissipation, unfits them for their calling. 
With the best care of themselves they soon wear out, and die 
of old age at five-and-forty. They are a sad, over-strained, 
over-worked class. They put all their life into their trade. 
They think, move, and have their being in a watch. They 
have no thought, no hope, no purpose beyond it. I carry a 
Geneva watch in my pocket, and its tickings constantly re- 
mind me of the feverish pulses of the poor fellows who have 
given so much of themselves to the little miracle of mechan- 
ism and absorbing toil. 

I am afraid I shall never see one of the delicate time-keep- 
ers without a certain melancholy association — without recall- 
ing the conscientious serfs I have studied on the Grand Quai 
of Geneva. 



390 CALVm AND ROSSEAU. 

The watchmaker is born, I believe, not made. The trade 
is inherited, and descends from sire to son. The city will 
always enjoy its excellence in this business. The steady 
habits, the unvarying patience, the plodding capacity, the un- 
swerving purpose of a Switzer, are essential to complete suc- 
cess. In a country like ours, where everything is haste and 
recklessness, where we touch life with bare nerves, the man- 
ufacture of a genuine Geneva watch would be next to impos- 
sible. 

John Calvin and Jean Jacques Rousseau are the two men 
Geneva always recalls. In the Rue de Chanoines is shown 
the house in which the stern and cruel reformer lived and died, 
and m the Grande Rue the dwelling where the eloquent apos- 
tle of love first opened his melancholy eyes. How different 
these men; how lauded one, how abused the other! They 
both led stormy lives. Both were earnest, and sought the 
good of humanity in different ways. One found his guide 
in his merciless interpretation of the Scriptures ; the other in 
his trembling sensibility to every form of pain. Calvin, in 
the interest of religion, condemned the conscientious Servetus 
to the stake. The works of Rousseau, written in behalf of 
humanity, were burned by the common hangman. 

Both were sincere; both were mistaken. Austere and 
rigorous in his way as the reformer was ; scoffer and atheist 
as the philosopher was called, there are many to-day who 
would rather have been Rousseau than Calvin. There is, to 
my mind, more true religion in "Emile" and "Nouvelle 
Heloi'se," much as they have been censured, than in all the 
pitiless doctrines the theologian taught. 

Calvin would dave damned every soul that held an opinion 
different from his own. Rousseau would have quenched with 
his tears the flames Calvin kindled about the poor physician 
who had dared to doubt the injustice of God. And one is 
styled Christian, the other infidel. 

The house of Calvin is now a Catholic school. Tlie pulpit 
from which he dealt damnation over the world has since been 
occupied by Romish priests. Where Rousseau's statue stands, 



CHUR Cn BY VOL TAIRE. 391 

on the island named after him, I have heard sweet music ris- 
ing night after night. In the Musde Rath I have seen gen- 
tle natures turn from the picture of Calvin's death as if in 
pain, and soft eyes moisten over Rousseau's bust as if in sym- 
pathy with all he endured. Who knows but the present gen- 
eration is reversing the judgment of the past ? 

Geneva is at the southern extremity of the Lake, at the 
point where the Rh6ne flows from it with the swiftness of an 
arrow, and makes a pleasant lullaby to the head that seeks 
its pillow in the neighboring hotels. Again and again have 
I gone to sleep to the noise of its stream, and been awakened 
from dreams by the rush of its waters. The RhSne surrounds 
the little Quartier de I'lsle, and divides the town into two 
parts. The canton of which the city is the capital is the 
smallest in Switzerland after Zug, and Voltaire used to say : 
" When I shake my wig I powder the whole republic." 

Fernex, in French territory, is four miles from Geneva, at 
the foot of the Jura mountains. It was a wretched hamlet 
until Voltaire in 1759 purchased land there ; founded manu- 
factures ; attracted industrious colonists ; built a chateau for 
himself and a church with the inscription over the portal — 
Voltaire Deo Erexit (Voltaire has erected this to God). The 
Chateau and Church were visited by thousands every year ; 
but recently they have been removed, ostensibly to give place 
to new improvements, but really, it is said, with the expecta- 
tion of extinguishing the memory of the Patriarch — an effort 
kindred to Mrs. Malaprop's endeavor to keep out the Atlantic 
with her broom. 

Most of the Americans who go abroad seem to have but one 
object — advertisement of themselves and the length of their 
purses. Even those who have slender incomes are anxious 
to have it thought otherwise. They spend as they go, giving 
on every hand without reason or justice. When they are 
obliged to return home, they spare and pinch until they have 
made up for their prodigality in Europe. I have seen many 
on the Continent affecting what they conceive to be — a grand 
mistake, by the by — the liberality of princes ; and I am sure 



392 AMERICAN TRAVELERS. 

when they got back to their native land they chaffered with 
tradesmen, and disputed about pennies. The Europeans un- 
derstand this peculiarity, and make the most of it. They 
flatter our national vanity, which is to make others believe 
we are worth more than we are, and so enhance their fortunes 
at the expense of our own. 

We make ourselves ridiculous in this way ; but we never 
seem to perceive it. Every year our extravagance on the 
Continent increases, and every year foreigners fatten on our 
folly. Americans have ruined Europe as a place of travel for 
persons of moderate means. Prices have advanced a hundred 
per cent, in a few years, and the time is coming when a single 
native Columbian can not spend six months abroad for less 
than three thousand dollars in gold. There is one rate over 
there for Americans, and another for Europeans, who do not 
think the best thing in life is to waste money. A French, 
English, or Italian nobleman who has inherited riches is much 
more careful of them than any of our own people, who have 
made what they have by hard work. It would be well for us 
if we could remember this, and refrain from affecting gentility 
by unreasonable and therefore vulgar display. 

I hardly know what poor Switzerland would do without the 
income derived and expected from the English-spending race. 
It has become as much of a show-shop as Italy. Wherever 
there is a fine view, a lofty mountain, or a picturesque cas- 
cade, a hotel is set up, and tempting baits are laid for the 
purses of the Anglo-Saxons. The English, however, are wiser 
than we. They visit the Continent to improve and enjoy 
themselves. They like to be comfortable ; but they have no 
ambition to convince every one they meet of their disregard for 
money. They are willing to pay for what they get. The 
Americans are anxious to pay for what they do not get ; and 
there is no doubt they get less for what they spend than any 
people in the world. 

One of the first things an American of the kind I speak of 
tells you, is how much it has cost him in Europe. He does 
not seem to appreciate or remember what he has seen ; but 



A HARVEST FOR SWITZERLAND. 



393 



he can inform jou to a dollar of the extenU of his expendi- 
tures. If he has parted with five times as much money as he 
ought, he appears happy, and sails back across the sea with 
the assurance that he has sustained the national reputation, 
so mifortunately and deservedly acquired, of living beyond 
one's means. 

Switzerland derives annually from travelers not less than 
seven or eight millions of dollars ; and I need not say that 
the greater part of this comes out of the ever-open pock- 
ets of our countrymen. Our material prosperity has spoiled 
us. We are children as yet. Perhaps with age we shall 
learn that the vanity of money-spending is, of all vanities, the 
weakest and silliest. 





. CHAPTER LI. 

CLIMBING MONT BLANC. 

OU rarely enter any town in Savoy or Swit- 
zerland where you are not told you can have 
splendid views of the Alps, and of this and that 
particular mountain, from height or tower, if the 
weather be clear. 

The last phrase is very discreet, though ex- 
tremely disappointing. Most tourists suppose it 
means when there are no clouds or mists ; but it means when 
the atmosphere is in a peculiarly translucent state, which it 
seldom is, in mountainous districts, more than once or twice 
a month. 

There is no satisfaction in looking at peaks miles and miles 
away. You have to depend on your imagination for their 
outlines, and create them more or less out of the clouds that 
envelope them. That is a good exercise for the development 
of the poetic faculty ; but rather misubstantial as a pleasure 
to one who has crossed the ocean to see with his outward 
instead of his inner eye. 

Naturally, every tourist desires to have a view of Mont 
Blanc, the Agamemnon of the Alps, and, indeed, the moun- 
tain monarch of all Europe. He often seeks to gratify his 
curiosity from Milan, Martigny, Geneva, and every other 
place within a radius of a hundred miles ; but he rarely suc- 
ceeds unless he makes a journey into the celebrated Vale of 
Chamonix, whose scenery has no equal in grandeur in all 
Switzerland. 

The Mont Blanc chain might not be thought mugh of in 



INTRODUCTORY EXCURSIONS. 335 

our country — the loftiest peak is less than fifteen thousand 
feet (14,807 feet to be exact) but in Europe they hold it in 
the highest regard. 

The Vale of Chamonix lies immediately below the chain, 
and seems wholly shut in by the mountains and the sky, Mont 
Blanc and all his companions rear their hoary heads over the 
insignificant hamlet — the whole population consists of hotel 
attaches, guides, and mule drivers — dwarfing it still more, 
and making it appear like a village of toys. 

Many persons drive there from Geneva — fifty miles distant 
— and after looking at the splendid scenery, return the follow- 
ing day. Others, more curious or ambitious, ascend Montan- 
vert with the aid of a mule ; quit their beast, go down to the 
Mer de Glace, cross it, ride again to the Chapeau, and after- 
ward climb the Fl^g^re, which can be accomplished in twelve 
hours. Some content themselves with going to the H6tel des 
Pyramides, at Montanvert, and enjoying from that point the 
splendid panorama — probably the finest beyond the Atlantic. 
There you see all the grand mountains in their native sub- 
limity — Blanc, the D6me du Gout^, Aiguilles du Midi, Verte, 
d'Argentidre, les Jorasses, and all the sky-piercing fraternity, 
costumed in snow, glaciers, and icy seas. 

Having plenty of time, and a little money, I wanted to do 
something more than common. I like climbing. I am well 
constructed for it, having no superfluous flesh, and having ac- 
quired a certain agility and endurance in early boyhood by 
trying to collect numerous accounts left me in trust by a good 
fellow who had been called away by important business to the 
other world. 

I have vast faith in my capacity for upward movements ; but 
still I had heard so much of the danger and difiiculty of as- 
cending Mont Blanc that I thought I would prepare myself 
by introductory excursions. 

I discarded mules and guides where I could ; did Montan- 
vert before breakfast ; crossed the Glaciers des Bossons ; mount- 
ed the Fl^g^re, explored the source of Arveiron as an appe- 
tizer for dinner; and, finally, went on foot from the hotel to 
the Jardin and returned by Les Tines in about ten hours. 



396 



TEE EARLIEST ASCENTS. 



The guide who conducted me on the last expedition was 
warm in his encomiums upon my pedestrian powers, which I 
should have regarded merely as the insurer of a large trink- 
geld had I not noticed that he was more disposed than I to 
halt on the mountain march. 

Mont Blanc was first ascended in 1786 by Jacques Balmat, 
an intrepid guide, who M^as made seriously ill by the fatigue 
and exposure, but recovered sufficiently in a few weeks to go 
up again with his physician, Dr. Paccard, and return after a 
succession of perils and narrow escapes. Balmat lived nearly 
fifty years longer, and was finally killed by falling over a pre- 
cipice while in pursuit of a chamois. The following year, De 
SaussurCjthe naturalist, made the ascent with sixteen guides, 
and published the results of his expedition in a scientific 
journal. In 1825 the summit was reached by Dr. E. Clarke 
and Captain Sherwill, and during the last fifteen years a num- 
ber of tourists have climbed to the peak of Blanc every season. 
The majority of those who undertake the journey abandon it 
from disinclination or inability to endure the severe fatigue 
which can hardly be borne by those unaccustomed to regular 
and energetic exercise. 

After my experience, I felt confident I could accomplish 
the task, if I could make up my body as easily as I had made 
up my mind. 

Every hour I have passed in the Valley, Mont Blanc defied 
me, as if to say, " Come up here if you dare ! Why think 
you have endurance and content yourself with scaling the 
lesser steeps ? I am monarch. If you were born to command, 
as you fancy, no doubt, take your place by my side." 

I soon began to imagine the peak was really challenging 
me. I became possessed with the idea of doing what the old 
fellow so vexatiously invited me to do. I talked to my guide 

a trusty and experienced person — who said the ascent 

could be made in two days, though three was the usual time, 
and at an expense for himself and two porters to carry 
ladders, hooks, cords, and provisions, of about four hundred 
francs. 



SLIPPERY CLIMBING. 397 

It is customary to ascend to the Grand Mulcts on the first 
day, rest and sleep there, climb to the summit, and return to 
the Mulcts on the second day, and descend to Chamonix on 
the third. All that I felt I could do in forty-eight hours. 
My guide, the trink-geld in his mind, was entirely of my 
opinion. 

Our party was soon ready. It consisted of two tourists be- 
sides myself— a German and Englishman — and five guides 
and porters. The German intended to go as far as the Grand 
Mulcts, and the Briton was determined to reach the summit, 
if flesh and spirit would hold together. 

We set out early in the morning. Alpenstocks in hand ; the 
porters carrying knapsacks and implements enough to cross 
the whole range of the Andes, which I presumed to be for the 
sake of impressing their patrons with the conviction that they 
earned more than they charged. We began the ascent near 
the village where a huge glacier (Des Bossons) nearly reaches 
the Valley. 

The glacier resembles a sea suddenly frozen, not during a 
tempest, but when the wind has lulled, and the billows, though 
still very high, have become blunted and rounded. The icy 
billows are almost parallel to the length of the glacier, and 
are intersected by tranverse crevasses, which, while white 
outside, have a bluish-green interior. 

The glacier was slippery and steep, and theclimbing, hour 
after hour, was monotonous, tedious, and tiresome. 

I began to think the thing as great a bore as the Mont 
Cenis tunnel, for my ankles ached, and, as the sun rose, the 
heat grew uncomfortable. The fatigue was temporary. I 
grew accustomed to walking on the ice after a while, and my 
burning blood lent energy and enthusiasm to my march. 

I had been wondering where the ladders were to be used. 
I found out. They were placed across the crevasses, which 
are the chasms in the glaciers, and which, when covered with 
snow, are treacherous pitfalls, letting inexperienced moun- 
taineers into eternity without asking their leave. A number 
of fatal accidents have occurred by tourists stepping on what 



398 DANGLES OF TEE ROUTE. 

they supposed firm snow or ice, and disappearing for ever in 
chasms from 1,000 to 5,000 feet deep. 

Most of the crevasses are so small they can be stepped over, 
but a few require the ladder, which, with pointed hooks, holds 
the ends firm while you cross. The guide wanted to tie a 
strong cord or rope about my waist so that, in the event of 
my falling, I might be saved from a broken neck. 

I objected to the cord. I had known a number of men 
whose necks had been broken by being tied to a rope, and I 
had no notion of going out of the world dangling to a cord. 
If I took a laying trip to another planet I wanted to travel 
disencumbered. So I crossed the crevasses generally on the 
ladder without being tied. 

The glaciers that seemed only a few hundred yards wide 
were miles in extent. I fancied sometimes they were endless. 
The sun, now very hot, melted the snow. My boots sank 
into it and splashed the little rivulets that flowed through the 
frozen surface. My feet were very cold, and my brain was 
burning up. It was an odd sensation — winter underfoot and 
midsummer overhead — certainly not according to the received 
ideas of hygiene ; but I knew the inversion would do me no 
harm, as my health had always been invulnerable. 

I got along vastly better than my companions, who weighed 
at least 160 to 170 pounds each, and who wheezed and puffed 
along like consumptive engines, and grew supremely tired 
every half mile. The true Briton became profane in the 
midst of perspiration and fatigue, and would have retraced his 
steps several times if it had not been as hard to return as to 
go on. I felicitated myself upon my having an avordupois of 
only about 120, having lost by months of hard travel, exercise 
and perpetual sight-seeings, nearly fifteen pounds. I could 
have distanced my fellow-tourists every hour, if I had had my 
way, and I was anxious that they should give up the journey 
that I might the sooner accomplish it. The Teuton did not 
relish the climbing, and would frequently . exclaim, Mein 
Croit, mein (xott, es ist gefdhrlich (my God, my God, this is 
dangerous), and wipe his brow with nervous apprehension. 



DREADFUL ACCIDENT. 399 

Some of the places on the route certainly looked ugly. We 
went along narrow ledges of rock, slippery with ice and snow, 
where hardly a foothold could be secured, and where a mis- 
step would have sent us over precipices of thousands of feet. 
In certain parts of the journey we slid down steep declivities, 
being very careful to keep our feet firm lest we should go 
Ibounding down, down, down, and be dashed to pieces on the 
sharp rocks bristling below. Under those circumstances we 
were tied together by a strong rope, so that, if one slipped, he 
might be saved by the holding back of the others. More than 
once, but for such precaution, some one of us would have 
broken his neck. It was by the fracture of a rope that three 
Englishmen, Rev. Mr. Hudson, Lord Francis Douglas, and 
Mr. Haddo, with one of the guides, lost their lives in the sum- 
mer of 1864, while descending the Matterhorn — they were the 
first to climb it — having been precipitated from a point near 
the summit to a depth of 4,000 feet upon the Matterhorn 
glacier. There is little doubt, however, that the entire party, 
consisting of seven persons, would have perished had not the 
rope broken, preventing three ofthem from following the fate 
of their companions. Mr. Haddo lost his footing, and dragged 
the others after him to dizzy death. 

Where we were compelled to climb down steep ice-covered 
rocks with a yawning precipice at the base, and across a ladder 
to a ridge of snow-crowned granite, and then across another lad- 
der with several thousand feet of airy nothing below, the ends 
of the latter resting only on the ends of high peaked prom, 
ontories, it was quite enough to test the steadiness of the 
brain and firmness of the nerves. However, such places 
seemed much more perilous than they really were, and the 
peril retreated, I discovered, as I came to grapple with it 
directly. To a man of cool head and well balanced nervous 
system there is little danger, except in case of accidents 
which can be neither foreseen nor avoided. 

Near the Grand Mulcts the rocks are extremely rough, as 
if all Nature had been upheaved, and the creeping up and 
over the icy obstacles is very fatiguing. There the German 



400 SLIPPING INTO CREVASSES. 

and Englishmen complained louder than ever, and the former 
constructed a theory of the universe which, if carried out, 
would have prevented much of our trouble and not a few of 
our bruises. 

About sundown we reached the Grand Mulcts, where we 
were to spend the night. The accommodations were rude, 
but the prices were extravagant enough to have insured ever^ 
luxury. I was not so tired as I had expected, but I was fever- 
ish. My nerves were all aglow ; I felt as if I could climb for a 
week without food or sleep. However, I lay down and had 
snatches of oblivion, with dreams of crevasses, glaciers, and 
avalanches without end. 

The German and Englishman, after two bottles of wine 
and several pipes of tobacco, decided they would go on in the 
morning, but being called about daylight the former was too 
stiff to crawl out of bed, and the latter doomed his optics to 
perdition if he would climb to the summit of Mont Blanc for 
the whole Bank of England and the jewels in the Tower beside. 

I was up at dawn, and the three guides who were to ac- 
company me with all their Alpine apparatus strapped to their 
back. 

We swallowed a few mouthfuls — that is I did — but the 
guides ate like cormorants, perhaps with a view of increasing 
the expense, which is always borne by the tourist. We had 
some hard climbing from the outset. The guide proffered 
me aid, but I declined it. I made a show of freshness when 
I was really fatigued. 

What right had I, as a free-born American citizen, to know 
there was such a thing as physical exhaustion ? I climbed 
over rocks very nimbly while my throat was parched, and my 
pulse and heart throbbed violently. Occasionally I slipped 
into a little crevasse up to my waist ; now and then I tum- 
bled over a rock ; but I soon righted myself, and went on 
with a firm will and steady step. I never found appearances 
quite so deceitful. 

I was confident we should be at the summit of Mont Blanc 
every five minutes for five hours. The steeps were often very 



TEE SUMMIT AL WA YS RETREA TING. 401 

Steep. We had to use our staffs and hooks frequently, and 
once in a while the guide insisted on pushing me up a hard 
place, though I vowed I did not need his aid. 

After we quitted the Mulcts the atmosphere grew cold, but 
still the rays of the sun were intense. I wore nothing but a 
close-fitting silk cap, and I was conscious of being rapidly 
converted into a red man, though I had no means of ascer- 
taining my tribe. I was very anxious to thrust my staff into 
the snow at the top of the mountain. I wanted to prevent it 
from retreating, as it had been doing for hours. 

Eternal winter reigned around, above, and below us. We 
seemed to have penetrated the great heart of the hyperbo- 
rean regions. Nothing anywhere but ice and snow, gla- 
ciers and crystal seas. 

As we neared the oval peak of Blanc, I looked below and 
saw what seemed one vast glacier as far as the eye could 
reach. Farther down we could hear the streams flowing 
under the glaciers. Up there the cold had chained every 
rivulet. Icy stalactites hung to the snow-covered rocks. 
When the winds blew, particles of the frost pricked my face 
like needles, and yet the sun smote me with fierceness. My 
body was in three zones — the Arctic to my knees ; the Tem- 
perate to my waist ; the Tropical to my brain. I marvelled 
sometimes I was not sun-struck, for my temples beat like 
caged eagles against burning bars. 

I grew very thirsty every few minutes. I stooped, gathered 
the driven snow, and ate it voraciously ; or, rather, I should 
have done so if it had not melted when it touched my parched 
lips. I fancied I could hear a smothered hiss when the cool 
stream ran down my throat. 

The way grew rougher, and harder, and steeper as we ad- 
vanced, and yet I walked, and hobbled, and climbed much 
faster than there was any need, the guides said, for I felt a 
burning restlessness that would not let me stop, save when 
exhausted nature demanded pause. My heart appeared to 
rise into my mouth, which was dry and parched ; my lips, I 
know, grew white, and I felt the fever sparkling in my eye. 



402 THE TOP AT LAST. 

Sometimes there was a sharp pain in my heart, and a sense of 
suffocation in my throat ; but I still smiled grimly, and ex- 
claimed, " Allons, allons ; il faut se depecher ;" when my 
strained limbs answered only to my strained will, well-nigh 
overtasked. 

Another half an hour, yea, an hour. Still on the glaciers. 
Still deeper and higher among the ice and snows. 

The glaciers are the most remarkable features of the Alps. 
They are formed of the granulous snow which accumulates in 
the valleys and clefts in the rocks above the snow line — eight 
thousand feet — which is melted by day and frozen by night, 
thus adding layer upon layer of the purest ice. Some of the 
glaciers are said to be fifteen hundred feet thick, though most 
of them are much less. They are always in motion, but not 
perceptibly, and sometimes acquire such size and force that 
they carry everything before them — soil, trees, rocks, and 
houses. 

I had resolved to think no more of getting to the top of 
Mont Blanc ; in fact, I had half come to the conclusion that 
it had no top. While I was slipping along, driving my iron- 
shod staff into the ice at every step, the guide called out : 
" Eh bien, Monsieur Chamois (the flattering name he gave 
me), enfin nous sommes arrives." (Well, Mr. Chamois, we 
have arrived at last.") 

I did not believe it. I cast my eyes upward. Sure 
enough, there was no more tantalizing stretch of ice above 
me. I sat down, and calling for the wine, drank a deep 
draught ; told my companions Mont Blanc did not amount to 
much, and that if they wanted to see mountains they must 
come to America. 

But the view ? There wasn't any. The clouds shut out 
everything. 

I could hear my heart thump in the audible and awful 
stillness, but my oft-deceived eyes told me, beyond doubt, 
that I had finally climbed to the summit of the peak which I 
had watched and aspired to in the valley miles below. I had 
panted for it; then I panted by it hard and fast. For half a 



SENSA TION EXHA US TED. 



403 



minute I had the satisfaction, the achievement of any object, 
earnestly desired, always gives, and then the sensation and 
satisfaction were exhausted. The fleeting present sparkled 
for a moment, and fell flat in the beaker of experience, 
never to sparkle again. 

I lifted my voice and shouted. The echoes answered with 
ten-fold power strangely, solemnly drearily, as if they had 
never before been awakened by mortal man ; and then the si- 
lence deepened once more into what seemed a soundless eter- 
nity, the return of nature to brooding chaos. 

I had not expected to see anything. I was not disap- 
pointed. I had the reward of every deed in having done it. 

Was I fatigued ? If I were somebody else I should answer 
in the afiirmative, with a profane emphasis. 





CHAPTER LII. 

THE BERNESE OBERLA.ND AND VICINITY. ■■ 

URING my wanderings in Switzerland I often 
took the pilgrim's staff and knapsack when I 
deemed it advisable, and went into the moun- 
tains, independent of porters, drivers, and 
lackeys of all sorts. There is a feeling of indi- 
vidual sovereignty in such genuine tourist mode 
that I like ; but still it has its counterbalancing 
discomforts. After sustaining the role of Octavian, I perceived 
wherein I had suffered. First, my clothes were damaged 
beyond repair, and my boots gaped like a church-yard in 
cholera-time. I was burned like an Indian from my throat 
to my forehead, so that, when prepared for the bath, I looked 
as if in some miscellaneous distribution of bodies and heads I 
had gotteii hold of the parts that did not belong to me. 

After several days' climbing, I underwent sundry com- 
plexional modifications. The skin on my face peeled off 
partially, and becoming crimsoned and bronzed again, I was 
resplendent in facial hues. Indeed, I regarded myself as a 
curious specimen of natural history which Agassiz would 
hesitate to classify. 

When I reached my baggage I was able to change myself back 
into the form of a nomadic American, which I originally bore. 
My complexion for some time retained its varied colors, which 
might have puzzled the political ethnologists who are in doubt 
whether the red or black man should enjoy the elective fran- 
chise. If suffrage were universal, I should have been 
privileged to vote several times on my face, for the white 



SWISS CASCADES. 405 

man, the red man, the brown man, and the black man that I 
represented could each have cast a vote. 

One of my latest walks was from Interlaken to Lauterbrun- 
nen ; thence to Grindelwald and by the Great Scheideck and 
Rosenlaui glacier to Meringen. The first' walk, six or seven 
miles, is by a good road. Lauterbrunnen is in a rocky 
valley, the mountains rising precipitately on both sides, 
where the sun, even in summer, does not make its appearance 
much before eight o'clock in the morning. There are numer- 
ous waterfalls in the vicinity (Lauterbrunnen means " nothing 
but springs"), and their pouring over the lofty precipices 
gives a grand effect to the gloomy valley in which the village 
lies almost hidden. The Staubbach (dust brook) descends 
unbroken for over nine hundred feet ; but as the volume of 
water is small, it is changed into spray before reaching the 
base. In the morning, when stirred by the breeze and shone 
upon by the sun, the little cascade is spangled with rainbows, 
that rise and fall and sway to and fro with every varying 
breeze. It seemed to me, when looking at it, as if Nature, or 
one of her daughters, had put on a variegated petticoat on a 
windy day, for all to admire who could. 

The Triimlenbach is another cascade of note. Fed by the 
glaciers of the Jungfrau, it rushes rapidly over a narrow 
chasm, and roars so you can hear it for two miles. It is not 
high, however, and therefore loses much in consequence. 

The finest fall I have seen in Switzerland is the Giessbacn, 
on the lake of Brienz, opposite the village of that name. It has 
seven cataracts, from seventy-five to a hundred feet each, and 
its entire descent is eleven hundred feet above the lake. You 
can ascend to the loftiest point by a path, and each cascade is 
crossed by a bridge. The Giessbach is, on the whole, the 
most picturesque fall I have ever known, and when illuminated 
after dark by Bengal lights, is striking in the extreme. 

The Reichenbach, partially in sight from Meringen, is 
higher than the Giessbach, but not so beautiful. It makes 
splendid rainbows, and plunges over the rocks above in sheets 
of splendid foam. 



40 6 iriE W OF THE M UNTAINS. 

En route to Grindelwald the first ascent after crossing the 
Liitschine is quite fatiguing, and has often discouraged pedes- 
trians at the start. As Switzerland is not visited until sum- 
mer, you are compelled to do your climbing with a high 
temperature, and going up steep mountains in the burning 
sun is one of the pleasures for which few persons secretly 
sigh. Heat, perspiration, and shortness of breath are rarely 
becoming, and still more rarely are they enjoyable. 

When you have reached the Hotel Jungfrau, you have a 
splendid view of that mountain. Towering up before you, 
covered with ice and snow, like a giant striving to scale 
Heaven, it fills you with a sense of grandeur that is not sur- 
passed even by the famous view of the Mont Blanc range from 
Montanvert. The Jungfrau is but 12,287 feet, not so high as 
Mont Blanc by 2,500 feet ; but it is fully as imposing between 
the two peaks of the Silberhorn and Schneehorn, thrusting 
its immense fields of snow above the clouds. If mountains 
are capable of inspiring awe, the Jungfrau will do it when 
viewed from the altitude on which the hotel is situated. 

The panorama from the Little Scheideck is striking. It 
embraces the entire valley of the Grindelwald, the flattened 
cone of the Faulhorn, and the Monch, Eiger, and Schreckhorn, 
the giants of the Bernese Oberland. The descent to Grindel- 
wald is very tedious, much of it being on a narrow path 
covered with loose stones which slip and wound the feet at 
every few steps. 

In the Reichenbach valley, not far from Meringen, is one of 
the most charming pictures in the country. It is a rich and 
fertile valley, skirted by pine forests, and watered by a rapid 
stream, with a vast mountain background of bold peaks and 
snow-crowned pyramids, that render it particularly imposing. 
The valley is crowded with infinite variety of landscape, and 
would give delightful employment to an artist for a whole 
season. 

The famous glaciers of Grindelwald are not very remarkable 
after you have examined those of the Rhone and the Yale of 
Chamonix. Still, they well repay a visit from the novice in the 



AN A VALANCHE REGION. 



407 



Alps. The lower glacier is 3,150 feet at the base, and is con- 
tinually advancing and thrusting its moraine before it. By 
ascending it you have a fine sight of what are called ice- 
needles in many fantastic forms. I know persons who have 
always regretted going out of Switzerland without seeing the 
glaciers. They are not very remarkable after all. They are, 
as I have said, merely vast bodies of frozen ice, which in their 
largest forms are called mers de glace. They are formed of 
melted snow and ice, which freezes again and again, and con- 
stantly descends toward the valley down the mountain side. 
They are very pure ice usually, having a blue color wherever 
they are opened (the open space is a crevasse) , and often as- 
suming the form on the surface of frozen billows. They are 
somewhat impressive when one walks over them, as I have 
done for miles ; but having become acquainted with a prime 
glacier its fellows lose their interest. The crevasses are 
sometimes very wide and deep. The Rosenlaui has an enor- 
mous crevasse, into which a stone thrown is many seconds in 
reaching the bottom. 

Avalanches are what nearly all ambitious tourists desire to 
see, above all other Alpine phenomena ; and yet many are 
obliged to leave the country without gratification. I presume 
I have been fortunate. I have seen avalanches without num- 
ber on the Mont Blanc chain, on the Jungfrau, the Wetter- 
horn, Matterhorn, and the ]\Ionch. Indeed, they have fallen 
wherever I have been, as if for my special benefit. They are 
caused by the accumulation of vast masses of snow and ice on 
the upper part of the mountains. Partially melted by the 
sun, they slide off, and go thundering and crashing over 
precipices and down rocky steeps. They often resemble 
cataracts, and are likely to be mistaken for them. They are 
disappointing generally ; for, viewed at a great distance, 
though they appear near, they show like simple snow-slides. 
What seems to be a common white cascade, is really hun- 
dreds, aye, thousands, of tons of ice and snow, capable of car- 
rying away forests and villages in their headlong course. 
They tumble generally into uninhabited districts, and do little 



408 RESULT OF A FLOOD. 

injury, though whole towns have been overwhelmed by them, 
as in the canton of Schweitz, in 1806, when three villages 
were completely destroyed. The RhSne Valley has, in times 
past, suffered so severely from avalanches, that during the 
winter no one lives in their track. During the warm weather 
there are ice avalanches ; during the cold season they are 
mainly of snow, drifted to vast volumes by the terrible Alpine 
storms. 

There is one spot near the Great Scheideck — it is in the 
region of the Monch and Eiger — where avalanches abound. I 
have known half a dozen there in half an hour ; some of them 
raising such a cloud of snow-mist as completed their resem- 
blance to a cataract. I am not aware that I am the discov- 
erer of that avalanche neighborhood, but I should think, if its 
peculiarity were known, that several hotels would spring up 
there immediately. They would certainly do well, for ava- 
lanches are more sought after than any other Swiss spectacle. 

I enjoyed Meringen during the days I tarried there. On the 
bank of the Aare, in a valley three miles wide, surrounded by 
wooded mountains and overshadowed by snow-crowned pinna- 
cles, with three brooks descending from the Hasliburg in grace- 
ful waterfalls, Meringen is a remarkably inviting spot, and 
from its neighborhood numerous excursions may be made. The 
brooks often overflow their banks, and cover the whole vicin- 
ity with mud, stones, and fragments of rock brought down 
from the adjacent heights. Such a flood destroyed the greater 
part of the village in 1762, and filled the church with debris 
to the depth of eighteen feet, as is still shown by a black line 
on the wall. The inhabitants of the district (Hasli-Thal) 
are traditionally supposed to be descendants of the Swedes or 
Friedlanders ; are noticeable for their pure dialect, pictur- 
esque costumes, and slight but wiry frames. They excel as 
wrestlers, and in many of the matches so common during the 
summer mouths on the Higi, Stadtalp, Wengernalp, and else- 
where. 

At stated times the young men of a valley or of several 
neighboring valleys meet, for a trial of strength and skill, 



THE FINEST LAKE. 40D 

their friends and acquaintances being the spectators. For a 
decisive victory one of the antagonists must be thrown by the 
other on his back, and so energetically and obstinately are the 
contests conducted that serious and even fatal injuries not in- 
frequently result. These wrestling matches, when not gotten 
up for mere show and gain, as at Interlaken, Lucerne, and 
Zurich, are curious and exciting, though sometimes painful 
for the'r prolongation. 

Meiringen is one of the few places I have visited where I 
could see the grandest landscapes, forests, mountains, gla- 
ciers, and cascades out of the window, without the trouble of 
changing my position in bed. 

I went to Lake Lucerne by the Briinig pass, which is pictur- 
esque, though not grand, like the St. Gothard, Simplon, or 
Splugen. 

I have been on all the Lakes of any note in the country, 
and I admire Lucerne above any other. I prefer it to Lu- 
gano, Como, or Maggiore, for variety and picturesqueness. 
Neuchatel and Constance are tame in comparison with the 
others. Brienz, Thun, and Zug, are too contracted to awake 
enthusiasm. Geneva is admirable at its upper end, but loses 
character as you go to the lower part. Como, with its verdure- 
covered mountains, that seem to run down to drink its pure 
waters, with its purple shadows, and its delightful villas, lingers 
in the mind a lovely dream of Italy. Maggiore, soft-skied, 
island-studded. Alp-crowned, leads you through delightful 
windings from majesty to pictured repose. 

But Lucerne combines the exquisite features of all the rest. 
It has the softness of Como, the beauty of Geneva, and the 
variety of Maggiore. Cruciform in shape, it is as four differ- 
ent bodies of water ; the bay of Lucerne forming the head, the 
bays of Kiisnacht and Alpnach the arms, and the Lake of Uri 
the foot. From Fluelen to Lucerne it is twenty-five miles 
long, and four miles wide, and some fifteen between the ex- 
tremities of the arms. Its beautiful banks are associated with 
William Tell (of him the rude iconoclasts of the day have left 
us little to admire), or at least with Schiller's poetic version 



410 CITY OF ZURICH. 

of the apocryphal hero. The Lake is full of charming sur- 
prises, and the new always appears lovelier than the old. 
You look to the north or the south, and islands and villas 
greet you ; beyond them, emerald hills, dotted with romantic 
hamlets, ruined castles, and beyond those again range upon 
range of the Alps, fading through snow and cloud into the 
blue splendor of the overarching heavens. I doubt if Lucerne 
has its equal on the globe. It is a noble lyric of landscape, 
and its vision stirs the recollection of all beautiful things 
within you like the strains of Beethoven or the lines of Shakes- 
peare. 

The city of Lucerne will always be a pleasant memory — am- 
phitheatrical in situation on the Reuss, where it emerges 
from the Lake, between the Rigi and Pilatus, facing the snow- 
clad Urner and Engelberger Alps, and conspicuous by its walls 
and watch-towers. Two of its old roofed bridges covered with 
quaint paintings of saints — the dance of death and historic 
scenes, are curious and interesting. 

The chief art attraction, outside the "Waggis Gate, is the 
Lion of Lucerne, hewn out of the solid rock after a model by 
Thorwaldsen, in memory of the twenty-six officers and seven 
hundred and sixty soldiers of the Swiss Guard massacred in 
defense of the Tuileries, August 10th, 1792. The lion, twen- 
ty-eight or thirty feet long, is reclining in a grotto, his body 
transfixed by a broken lance, and his paw sheltering the Bour- 
bon lily. The work is excellent and full of spirit. Though 
Lucerne has a population ot less than 12,000, 4,000 or 5,000 
strangers are often there in summer, and some of them find 
slender accommodation even at the large and superb hotels. 

Zurich I quitted unwillingly, as almost any one does who 
has any fondness for beautiful scenery. It is at the extremity 
of the Lake (Zurich), on the banks of the Limmat, dividing 
it into two parts. On both sides of the Lake are orchards, 
vineyards, and villages, and beyond them the grand back- 
ground of the towering and snowy Alps looking deliciously 
cool amid summer heats. The city is the most flourishing of 
the Swiss manufactm'ing towns, and the literary center of 



PERIODICAL INSANITY. 411 

German Switzerland. Its population is nearly 21,000, and 
including the suburbs some 46,000 or 47,000. 

The hotel where I stayed (the Baur au Lac), is the most 
delightfully situated public house I have seen anywhere. It 
is on the banks of the Lake ; is almost surrounded by beauti- 
ful gardens, one of which runs down to the water's edge, from 
which you have a magnificent view of the Lake and the Alps. 
A bath-house is adjacent, and you can step into a row or sail 
boat anytime for a pleasure or a fishing excursion. The sun- 
sets, and the twilight and the evening are delightful, as seen 
from the garden. I have sat there hour after hour hardly 
able to leave so lovely a scene. You hear music, both vocal 
and instrumental, on the water, and the air is loaded with the 
fragrance of the flowers and the blossoms of the locusts which 
grow there in profusion. What surprised me was that there 
were so few Americans or English at Zm-ich. The house was 
very full, but the guests were mostly Germans, Dutch, French, 
and Italians. I have no motive and no disposition to " puff" 
hotels ; but I believe I do an act of benevolence to my travel- 
ing countrymen when I call their attention to the Baur au 
Lac. 

I remember Cappri, Ischia, Pozzuoli, and all the famous 
retreats about Naples ; but I give preference to the situation 
of the hotel in question. I don't know the landlord, but I 
have been told he becomes insane at the end of every season, 
and regains his wits just before the opening of business. I 
can't account for this except that he seems to deal honestly 
with his patrons, which may be a sure symptom of mental de- 
rangement in Switzerland. 

The public houses in the country are in the main excellent, 
though you need to look out fo"r overcharges. But the Trois 
Couronnes, at Yevay ; the Schweizerhof, at Lucerne, and the 
Giessbach, at the celebrated cascade, have the finest situa- 
tions (the Baur au Lac always excepted) I have seen in 
Europe. 




CHAPTER LTTI. 

SWITZERLAND — CONTINUED. 

'REIBURG, capital of the canton of the 
same name, owes its origin — and its 10,000 
or 11,000 inhabitants, I suppose — to Berthold, 
of Zahringen, who, seven centuries ago, showed his 
good taste in and understanding of town sites by 
founding this city. It stands on a rocky eminence 
surrounded by the Sarine — is very like Bern in 
situation — and forms the boundary between the French and 
German-speaking population of Switzerland; German being 
the language of the lower, and French of the upper part of 
the town. 

Freiburg is exceedingly picturesque, as I found out by 
walking from the railway station to the elevated site occupied 
by the Jesuits' College, thence across the Suspension Bridge 
(it is 905 feet long, 22 broad, 175 above the river, is sus- 
pended by four chains, nearly 1,200 feet long, forming a' 
single arch) by the road to the Pont de Gotteron (a similar 
bridge to the other, but 285 feet above the water, and span- 
ning a deep rocky ravine) , which I crossed and proceeded by 
numerous windings to a group of houses, known as Bourgillon, 
just outside of the town. To go from the upper to the lower 
part of the city is like passing from one country to another. 
The man you meet one moment is voluble in the Gallic 
tongue, and the next person you address in the same language 
has no conception of your meaning. You must change the 
nasal for the guttural, and indulge in genug, and nein, and 
gehen Sie loeg^ instead of asses, and non^ and va-t-en, to the 
miscellaneous throng that persecute travelers on the Conti- 
nent. 



AN ORGAN-IC STORM. 413 

The Church of St. Nicholas, the Episcopal Cathedral, is a 
good specimen of Gothic ; is nearly six centuries old, and its 
reliefs on the portal, representing the Last Judgment, Heaven 
and Hell, are as grotesque in the light of the nineteenth cen- 
tury as they were no doubt terror-inspiring to the monkish 
superstitions of the past. 

Tlie organ of the church is one of the most celebrated in 
Europe, and the sacristan who shows it does not fail to tell 
you that it has sixty-seven stops and seventy-eight hundred 
pipes, some of them thirty-two feet long. 

The organist, M. Vogt, plays every evening, and the franc 
paid for hearing him yields a large interest in melody. A 
composition descriptive of a storm — a favorite on the 
Continent — was very impressive. The rich volumes of sound, 
imitating the strife of the elements, rolled through the ancient 
arches in the gathering shadows of the evening, and throbbed 
and sighed and wailed to the airy ghosts my aroused imagina- 
tion had created. I enjoyed the music greatly, as did the thirty 
or forty strangers who has assembled in the church, and all 
seemed unwilling to depart when silence followed the darkness 
that had fallen almost imperceptibly while the musician 
touched the keys and their hearts together. 

In front of the Town Hall, an old linden tree, fifteen feet in 
circumference, partly supported by stone pillars, was originally 
a twig (according to tradition) borne by a young Freiburger 
who ran bleeding, breathless, and exhausted into the city to 
announce the victory at Morat over Charles the Bold, nearly 
four hundred years ago. 

I like the situation of Neuchatel (about 10,000 population) 
as it is ])uilt on the steep slope of the Jura, rising like an 
amphitheatre from the Neuchatel Lake (twenty-seven miles 
long and six wide). The new quarter of the town, containing 
many handsome houses, is on the Lake ; and the Castle, on 
an eminence, is the seat of the government of the canton. 
The College has a small collection of minerals and fossils 
made by Agassiz when he was a professor there. The Chau- 
mont, a spur of the Jura chain, to the north of the town, 



414 LEGENDS OF A CHURCH. 

commands a fine view of the Lake, the surrounding country 
and villages, with the entire Alpine range from the Sentis to 
Mont Blanc, when the atmosphere happens to be favorable. 
The Lake is so far inferior to the beautitul bodies of water of 
the higher Alps that it seems common-place, though in another 
country it would be thought quite picturesque. 

The most important branch of industry in the canton, par- 
ticularly at La Chaux de Fonds and Le Locle, is the manu- 
facture of watches, many of them being sold at Geneva. 
At the two towns mentioned about 250,000 watches are an- 
nually manufactured. 

Basel is less interesting than I had expected to find it, re- 
membering it as the Basilea of the Roman army in the fourth 
century. It is the second city of Switzerland in population 
(45,000), but the first in wealth, manufactures, and com- 
mercial importance, which it owes to its position on the 
Rhine, at the junction of the frontiers of France and Germany. 
The river divides the city into Great and Little Basel, which 
are connected by a wooden bridge. The Miinster is an im- 
posing and historic church, built by the Emperor Henry II. 
in 1010, and afterwards burned down and shaken down by an 
earthquake. It was there the celebrated Council, composed 
of five hundred clergymen, assembled in 1431 to establish a 
reformation of the Church. They disputed for five or six 
years without any result, until Pope Eugene lY., growing 
tired of their wrangling, excommunicated the whole contro- 
versial crew. 

In the Miinster are buried many historic characters, among 
them Erasmus and the Empress Anna, wife of Rudolph of 
Hapsburg and mother of the line of Austrian princes. Basel 
is walled and moderately well-built, the streets clean, but ir- 
regular, and liberally supplied with fountains. 

Just outside the gates is a Gothic obelisk to commemorate 
the battle of St. Jacob in 1444, when 1,300 Swiss attempted 
to force their passage to the town, against which 30,000 
French, under the Dauphin (afterwards Louis XI.), were 
marching to attack the Confederates. After a desperate con- 



A SWISS TOWN WITH GERMAN ATTACHMENTS- 41 J 

flict the brave Switzers were to a man cut to pieces, and the 
memory of their heroism is preserved in tlie name of the 
wine — Swiss Blood — made from the vineyards occupying the 
scene of the unequal struggle. This action gave, it is said, 
to the Swiss their earliest reputation for valor, and was the 
cause of the enrollment of the Swiss Body Guard of France. 

Arriving at Bern, I find myself in as German a community 
as if J had been in Cologne or Dusseldorf. The shops, the 
streets, the signs, the people, the fountains, the hotels, the 
cooking, make you think you are in a wholly different country 
Irom that including Geneva or Lausanne. The odor of cheese 
and beer assails you under the arcades ; blood-puddings and 
ferocious sausages stare you out of countenance ; large-waisted 
women in queer costumes plant themselves in yom' way; 
broad-faced men, with long pipes and oily complexions, run 
against you and say Guten tag, mein Serr, and pass you puff- 
ing like a Western steamboat. You have to fight for ventila- 
tion, for your true German stands in mortal fear of the 
smallest di*aught. Your chamber is closed like a castle in 
time of siege. A huge feather-bag is put upon your bed, 
though the weather be as hot as Tophet, and you have sought 
repose in the garb of the Apollo Belvidere. 

Bern is admirably situated, and its surroundings are not 
surpassed by any city in Switzerland. If any one, however, 
expects to behold all the famous mountains which the guide- 
books tell him he can see from various points in the town,,he 
will be disappointed. To have an appreciative view of the 
Alps, as I said before, you must go among them. Still, on 
clear summer evenings, about sunset, you can enjoy a superb 
panorama while dining in the Garden of the Casino, or from 
the terrace of the Federal Hall. 

When I was last at Bern, the two National Councils were 
in session (they sit in July generally) , and I had an opportu- 
nity to hear their debates. The bodies answered to our Senate 
and House, and are composed of very intelligent-looking men, 
of apparently strong character. They speak in German, 
French, Italian, and sometimes the Swiss dialect, which sounds 



416 IS.AMPLE FOR C0NGRESSME2i. 

YQYj odd at first. The French speakers have the most to 
say,, the Italians next, and the Germans least. I observed, 
however, that, judged by the American standard, they were 
all superhumanly reticent. The most extended harangue 
was an epigram compared to what I have heard in Congress* 
I think the debates are not reported, which may account for 
their brevity. I am convinced it our poiticians at Washing- 
ton had no expectation of seeing what they say in print, they 
would talk far less and do much more. I could not help but 
notice that at Bern there were no buncombe speeches, as we 
style them. What the Representatives said was to the point, 
and they knew when they were done — a dizzy height of wis- 
dom we seem never likely to reach. 

Bern, derived from Baren (bears), is mainly remarkable 
for those animals (the operators for a fall in Wall street 
should live there), which seem to be apotheosized by the in- 
habitants of the canton. The bear is to the Bernese what the 
ibis was to the ancient Egyptians. They have, near the 
Aare River, a bear's den, in which some huge and ferocious 
animals are confined. They have bears carved on the city 
gates, and bears on their heraldic devices. They have a me- 
chanical clock, in which bears play the most prominent part. 
They have stuffed bears in their museum. They adorn their 
fountains with bears. They cut and paint bears on every- 
thing, and they ought to adopt as their motto " Bear and For- 
bear." 

The bear-worship is a tradition, the origin of which is 
lost in time ; though some suppose it is a symbol of gal- 
lantry toward women, as Eve is said to have made her first 
appearance in public in a bare skin. She must have been a 
Bernese. 

One of my amusements at Bern was to watch the strangers 
who used to drive or walk, full of expectation, to the clock tow- 
er, and after witnessing its performance, go away deeply disap- 
pointed. At three minutes before every hour a wooden cock 
gives the signal by clapping its wings and crowing. One 
minute later a number of bears walk around a seated figure 



A FAMOUS CLOCK. 417 

of Time, the cock crows again, and when the clock strikes 
Time turns an hour-glass, and seems to count the hour by 
raising his sceptre and opening his mouth. Simultaneously 
the bear on the right bows, a grotesque figure strikes the 
hour with a hammer on a bell, and the cock ends the en- 
tertainment by crowing a third time. This may appear like 
something, but when you find out that the figures are small, 
and reveal no special mechanical ingenuity, the clock reminds 
you of a child's toy. 

Bern has better preserved its characteristic features than 
any other Swiss town. Most of the houses of the old quarters 
are built on arcades, under which are the foot-ways. The 
busiest street is nearly a mile long, and under four different 
names runs from the Ober Thor to the Nydeck bridge. The 
Cathedral, in which is a fine organ — I liked it as well as that 
of Freiburg — is a handsome Gothic structure, remarkable for 
its open-work balustrade encircling the roof. 

The great attraction of the city — its population is some 
80,000 — is the view it affords of the Alps and the Bernese 
Oberland. It is situated on a peninsula formed by the Aare, 
and looking down at the winding river, and off to the varied 
mountains, no one can fail to be impressed with the pictur- 
esqueness of its position. 

Switzerland has variety enough to please a Saracen or an 
idealist. Our own land, of course, excepted, probably no 
country in the world can begin to equal it for beauty and di- 
versity, picturesqueness and grandeur of scenery. And then, 
too, the finest scenery to be found is shut up in the little re- 
public in the most compact and convenient form for visiting. 

Switzerland was evidently designed for tourists who had 
little time and much appreciation. It must have been in- 
tended for what it has become — a show box ; for Nature has 
crowded it with panoramic views of the most magnificent 
description which you seek to advantage at certain points, 
as children do miniature pictures through a magnifying glass. 
The glass there is taste and culture, and the views are on so 
large a scale that no magnifying power is necessary. Amer- 



418 



TOURISTS IN SiVJ'IZERLAMn. 



icans generally fail to do justice to Switzerland. They run 
through it by rail from Geneva to Constance, and fancy 
they have seen all that is worth seeing. They should spend 
several weeks — three to five will answer if actively and in- 
telligently employed — in visiting the different parts of the 
country before they can form an adequate idea of its sur- 
passing scenery. Many of the very best portions of Switzer- 
land can not be seen without going off the beaten track; 
without taking diligence or private carriage, and often the 
journey must be made by mule or foot. The Zermatt and 
Chamonix valleys and the Bernese Oberland can never be 
appreciated unless one goes through them as a pedestrian. 
Nature, jealous of her rights, will not reveal herself to those 
too indolent to woo her with enthusiasm. Like other women, 
she wants to be courted before she gives the best of herself to 
her wooers. 





CHAPTER LIV. 

GRAND SWISS SHOOTING FESTIVAL. 

VISITED Ziig because the annual national 
shooting festival of Switzerland was held there, 
as it usually is in the month of June. Switzerland 
is so quiet, so conservative, so industrious, that 
you would not suppose the people could be brought 
to feel such a deep interest as they do in the burn- 
ing of gunpowder, unless in defence of their inde- 
pendence. Everybody from the Valais to the Schafifhausen, 
between Savoy and the Tyrol, is concerned in the festival. 
Every one of her entire twenty-two cantons is largely repre- 
seflited. Every heart in Helvetia responds to the crack of the 
rifles that are continually sounding from early dawn to dusk. 
I do not know the exact population of Switzerland, but I 
should suppose the greater portion of it was there; for 
very long trains were coming and going every hour from and 
to Basel, Bern, Zurich, and St. Gallen. 

You know how overworked the Swiss look, and how over- 
worked they really are. But there they are changed in ap- 
pearance. They enter so fully into the spirit of the sulphur- 
ous merry-making that they seem younger and fresher by 
years than is their wont. The little capital with its quaint 
houses, its ancient streets, its arches crowned with spires, is 
decked like a country bride. Flags, streamers, and wreaths 
hang from every house, and mottoes and verses recording the 
glory of Switzerland, and the courage and honor of the Swiss 
are wrought in fir and pine at every turning of the street. 
On such occasions the village of less than 4,000 people is 



420 PERFECT EQUALITY. 

greatly over-crowded. Not a dwelling in the town but has 
three or four beds in each room and two or three occupants 
in each bed. The Germans care less than we Anglo-Norman- 
Saxon-whatever-we-may-bes for social compactness. They 
are more gregarious and less fastidious than ourselves. They 
dine from dishes that are, to say the least, unique, and take 
strange bed-fellows without hesitation. All the Swiss are 
made one by shooting and drinking together. Why should 
they not lie together like sardines in a box ? 

The grounds, which are adjacent to the railway and near 
the station, cover an area of 200 acres. A rude wooden 
shooting gallery rmis along one side of the enclosure, which 
is covered with booths and side-shows of every description. 
There are two or three large buildings, gaudily painted on 
the outside, and surrounded with the national flag, a white 
cross on a field of scarlet. These are called festhalles, and 
the long, plain pine tables* and benches in them are occupied 
by those most bounteously blest with thirst and appetite, par- 
ticularly thirst. 

I am familiar with Germans and German life ; but I never 
visit a place of this sort -without feeling some astonishment 
at the amount of solids and liquids our good friends of 
Fatherland are able to dispose of. They eat and drink early, 
late, and often, and with such a relish, such an unctuous satis- 
faction, that it is enjoyable even to a surfeited spectator. 

A festhalle will hold ten or twelve thousand persons, and is 
all the while comfortably full of men, women, and children. 
It is creditable to the German nation that when they seek 
recreation, or indulge in their mild dissipation, they take 
their families with them. Their ease and freedom are to be 
admired. They are all on the best of terms. There seems 
to be no social distinction. The carefully dressed citizen sits 
next to the bloused peasant, and the cultivated lady of society 
speaks pleasantly to the bronzed woman who has just come 
from the labor of the fields. Young men and old sit with 
their arms about the waists of their feminine companions, 
who are not unfrequently seen asleep, leaning their heads on 



A TEMPLE OF PRIZES 421 

stalwart shoulders. How delightfully democratic, how charm- 
ingly unconventional all this ! Would that we at home could 
be inspired with something of the spirit that animates these 
people ! 

Babies are, of course, represented, and largely. The Ger- 
mans are nothing, unless prolific. The round, red-faced little 
creatures, who, I am bound to say, don't look a bit like 
cherubs, laugh and crow as if they were fully in sympathy 
with the occasion, though I judge from their vociferous cries 
once in a while that they find something in the proceedings 
that does not meet with their approbation. 

On the whole, the festival appeared more of a grand family 
gathering than any we have in this country, even of the Ger- 
mans. The Swiss work so hard, and so much, that when 
they play, they play with all their might. They give com- 
plete license to their inclinations, always mindful to keep 
within bounds, however, and make the most of every minute. 
They talk, laugh, smoke, drink, sing, dance, love, and shoot, 
by turns, and seem as contented as if they lived in Arcadia, 
instead of tarrying in Zurich. 

The Temple of Prizes was an object of great interest, par- 
ticularly to the feminine part of the visitors. It was in the 
middle of the grounds, and included such a variety of articles 
that it is impossible to remember them. There were silver 
and crystal goblets, meerschaum pipes, coverlets, rifles, 
household furniture, watches, pictures (the portraits of Presi- 
dent Lincoln and General Grant among the rest), any number 
of large and small medals, and I know not what else. 

In addition to these, there were many prizes in money, 
amounting to seventy or eighty thousand francs, which is 
thought a large sum in that country. Placards of the prizes 
were posted about the grounds very conspicuously, and were 
read with interest. There were different classes, given with 
such elaborate explanation and detail that I had not patience 
to read them, particularly as my German does not always en- 
able me to translate with as much freedom as I should desire. 

The shooting hall was merely a shed, from one side of 



422 EXFEBUIENTS OF SHOOTING. 

wliicli the marksmen discharge their pieces at a bull's eye — a 
distance of one hundred and iifty yards (long range), and 
about seventy-five yards (short range). Men stationed at 
the targets, behind bullet-proof casements, note the shots 
as rapidly as made, pulling a cord connecting with the gal- 
lery which is a sign that the shooting can continue. Of 
course everybody shoots — the prizes are open to all who 
will pay thirty centimes a shot — even the men who oc- 
cupy stands in the gallery, and load the rifles as rapidly as 
they are discharged. One can shoot six or twelve times, but 
not less, or five thousand times, if he is so inclined, and has 
the money. 

The rifles used are very different from those in this coun- 
try. They are of different kinds, but generally of the old 
needle-gun pattern, and very awkward and clumsy. They 
are heavy, and have a large segmental piece near the trigger 
for the left (supporting) hand to rest upon. The Swiss do 
not hold the piece as we do, directly and freely against the 
right shoulder, but put the right elbow upon the right hip, 
and, so supporting, bring the gun up to their eye. It is need- 
less to say this is not as fair a test of skill as our method ; but 
the Swiss can't be induced to shoot in any other way. 

I tried a few shots, and felt as I were firing a Columbiad 
or Dahlgren at a sparrow. One requires training in a gym- 
nasium to hold his piece, and taking sight was almost impossi- 
ble, where there were so many superfluities on the barrel. The 
piece was very heavily charged, and kicked, when it exploded, 
like a vicious mule. If my shoulder were not strong, I 
fancy it would have been dislocated by the dozen discharges. 
It was black and blue from the rebound. I don't think I did 
any very remarkable shooting. I didn't expect to. I was 
quite satisfied to get the gun off, so cumbersome was the 
whole thing, and so unpromising its performance. I believe 
I killed nobody (at least I have not heard of any death up to 
this time, which is consolatory, for I fancied my old piece 
full of manifold murder. One person was wounded during 
the engagement, that was myself — and supremely disgusted 
with the Swiss manner of shooting. 



A LOST OPPORTUNITY. 



423 



The shooting, which I observed was not good, but I suppose 
I saw none of the crack marksmen. Men without much skill 
might win a prize by burning powder enough, for they might 
succeed, by mere chance, in hitting the bull's-eye once in fifty 
or a hundred times. Certainly there was sufficient firing to 
earn a treasury of prizes. The guns were going without 
intermission from morning to night, and a gallon of beer 
was drunk for every shot. 

I heard something of the reception of Americans there, but 
saw nothing of it. I was the only one of my countrymen on 
the spot, so far as I was aware, and I am sure I was not re- 
ceived. If Train had been present, what a splendid opportunity 
he would have had to talk Fourth-of-July English to the pa- 
triotic Germans. They would have listened to him with pa- 
tience, for they could not have understood a word he said. 





CHAPTER LV. 

ITALY. 

" F I could visit but one country beside my own 
that country would be Italy — above any other the 
land of poetry and romance. No Italian town or 
city of note in which I have not tarried, and the 
longer I stayed the more I admired, — the more I 
grew into sympathy with the pervading spirit of 
antiquity and the mediaeval time. 
How well I remember the evening I entered Italy by the 
Mt. Cenis route ! It was in Susa I first set foot, and the dull 
old town, unattractive as it is, borrowed a eharm from the 
fact that it was Italian. The evening was beautiful, — soft, 
moonlit, dreamy, delicious, — and the nightingales sang in 
the groves and thickets more sweetly and plaintively, I 
thought, than I had ever heard them before. I could not 
sleep, so rejoiced was I at having reached at last the land 
where my mind had often been before. I sat up until the 
dawn flushed the East, and when I lay down, it was to dream 
that all my gorgeous visions of Italy had come to pass. 

Turin was the first city proper I formed acquaintance with. 
The capital of Piedmont, though finely situated, handsomely 
built, and boasting a population of nearly 200,000, has few 
old monuments or associations. 

Francis I. in the sixteenth century demolished the exten- 
sive suburbs, the Roman amphitheatre, and other ancient 
works, so that the vestiges of what the city was during the 
Empire and the middle ages are entirely obliterated. 

Turin has been for some years a place of refuge for the per- 



A MIRACULOUS WAFER. 425 

secuted all over the kingdom, and until lately fifteen hundred 
to two thousand persons were living there who had been 
obliged to leave their homes on account of their religious and 
political opinions; those from the Papal States having been 
very naturally the largest in number. The population is cos- 
mopolitan, probably from its proximity to France and Swit- 
zerland, and very liberal and tolerant in its views. There is 
less indolence and more intelligence in Turin than in any city 
of Italy, Milan, perhaps, excepted. 

The pleasantest part of the city is the Collina Hills, beyond 
the Po. They are extremely inviting, being covered with 
the richest green, surrounded by churches and dotted with 
handsome villas. Sitting in the gardens to the right of the 
Piazza Emmanuele under the sunshine, and looking over at 
the Collina, peace and poetry seem to dwell there together. 

There are over sixty churches in the city, and though many 
of them are elaborately and expensively painted and decorated, 
none are particularly interesting. 

La Gran Madre di Dio is in imitation — very feeble imita- 
tion — of the Pantheon, and cost $1,000,000, proving how 
much money may be spent for a bad (architectural) purpose. 
When I went there I found a zealous priest instructing a num- 
ber of extremely dirty little boys in their catechism. The 
catechism is excellent no doubt ; but I could not help think- 
ing the urchins might have been spared a while to go down 
to the Po, only a few yards off, and wash themselves. What 
is the use of having a river near so many soiled children, with- 
out giving them some of its benefit ? 

In the Church del Corpus Domini is a marble inscription, 
from which the profane are separated by an iron railing, com- 
memorating the wonderful recovery of a sacramental vessel 
containing the holy wafer, which a sacrilegious soldier stole, 
and concealed in one of the panniers of his saddle. The horse, 
or ass (I think it must have been an ass), being of a consci- 
entious and religious turn of mind, refused to pass the church 
door with the stolen property. He kicked and plunged, as 
secular beasts of his species often do ; the vessel fell to the 



426 



A MEDIEVAL VISION. 



earth, and the wafer girt with rays of light, shot up into the 
air until the priests appeared, when it descended into their 
sacerdotal bosom. 

Skeptical persons may consider this an improbable story ; 
but such things are constantly occurring in Italy, and the 
smallest hamlet in the country has five or six first-class mira- 
cles every year. 

In the Royal Armory is a number of very delicate triangu- 
lar-bladed stilettoes, with which the amiable ladies of the 
middle ages used to liberate themselves from disagreable hus- 
bands. The modus operandi is said to have been very simple. 
The gentle spouses put one arm about their liege-lord's neck, 
and with the disengaged hand thrust tiie fine steel into his 
left side, under the fifth rib. Signore Lorenzo or Duke Mat- 
teo made a wry face or two, but when he discovered that the 
act was prompted by the love of his idolized wife (for some- 
body else), he made no trouble, and the next day went to his 
own funeral. 

When I looked at the stilettoes I fell to recollecting how 
many a gentleman of the Negroni, Pallavicini, Balbi, Doria, 
and Brignole families had been tickled to death by their 
persuasive power. 

I saw visions of dark-eyed, night-haired, passionate women 
waiting on marble porticoes and in olive groves, for lovers 
they had bound themselves to by the new crime of murder. 

I saw gilded, frescoed, mosaic-paved chambers where strong 
men, famed in history, slept by the side of beautiful demons 
who bent over them fiercely, and whose voluptuous arms de- 
scended in white death. 

I saw the brilliant masquerade, the secret meeting in the 
garden, the clasping arms, the hungry kiss, and then, when 
the revel was over, the flushed gallant stabbed to death in the 
narrow street by the hired bravo. 

I saw the young wife with such hair and eyes as Titian 
loved to paint, kneeling at her husband's feet, and protesting 
her devotion before high Heaven. I saw the generous hus- 
band look into her saint-like face, and believe her pure for her 



LESS GARLIC AND MORE WASHING. 427 

wondrous beauty, assured so sweet a soul could never sin. I 
saw her, fresh with the pardoning kiss upon her lips, give that 
kiss to the man to whom she had yielded honor and all else. 

And then the stilettoes, so fine, so bright, so cruel, like 
the time they typified, flashed before my eyes until I saw no 
more. I returned to myself, and stood in the Piazzo del Cas- 
tello, with the nineteenth century around me, and the whistle 
of the locomotive bound for Genoa in my ears. 

Genoa always impresses me as very mediaeval, and its ap- 
pearance from the sea, with its crescent shape, gradual ascent 
from the shore, and the abrupt hill covered with villas rising 
abruptly behind the town, is likely to be remembered. Its 
130,000 people are picturesque-looking, but not as neat and 
wholesome as I should like to have them. 

It is one of the misfortunes of that really beautiful country 
that its sons, and daughters too, alas ! will insist on eating 
garlic, and living in sublime independence of soap, water, and 
immaculate linen. Victor Emanuel has done much for the 
people ; if he could only persuade them to eschew garlic, wash 
themselves once or twice a year at least, and part with some 
of their earnings to a laundress, he would do more, and entitle 
himself to the lasting gratitude of Anglo-Saxon tourists. 

The Italians all the way from the Po to the Tiber occupy 
themselves with washing clothes in the classic rivers, and 
even at the public fountains. What do they do with the 
washed garments ? They certainly do not wear them ; for 
they wash more in a day than they wear in a twelvemonth. I 
have endeavored in vain to determine this question. 

When I visit Italy the next time I hope the people vrill re- 
lieve my curiosity by appearing in pure linen, and also out of 
regard for an American who admires their country exceed- 
ingly, eat less garlic, or keep at a more respectful distance. 
If cleanliness be next to godliness, the Italians must be the 
greatest atheists in the world. 

Genoa is a characteristic Italian city ; a city of filth and 
faded splendor, of wretched dwellings and handsome gardens, 
of squalid people and crumbling palaces, of orangr groves and 



428 GENOA THE SUPERB. 

obnoxious odors. It was known in the mediaeval times, with 
which so much of its history is associated, as Genova la 
Superba ; but it is difficult at present to perceive how it 
gained the high-sounding title. You see little that is superb 
even in the best streets — the Yia Nuova, Nuovissima, Balbi, 
and Carlo Felice. Indeed, those with the Carlo Alberto, run- 
ning round the harbor, are almost the only ones passable by 
carriages. Nearly all the streets, excepting the Piazze, are 
unwholesome lanes, many not over seven or eight feet wide, 
often narrower, where persons from opposite sides can shake 
hands out of the upper windows, and where dampness and 
dirt destroy much of the romance almost inseparable from the 
name of Italy. 

The origin of Genoa is said to be anterior to that of Rome, 
and it is easy to see in the ancient city traces of the prosperity 
it enjoyed and the splendor it possessed during the seven 
centuries when it was the capital of a great commercial 
republic. 

The hotel where 1 stayed was formerly the Palazzo Serra, 
situated in front of the harbor. One morning I lay in bed 
and watched the clouds and the mists and the struggling sun 
until I got quite lost in a waking dream of the fair land. On 
the ceilings were the frescoes and on the floor the fine 
mosaics that had been put there four centuries ago, when a 
powerful and wealthy family dwelt within the walls. I was 
irresistibly carried back to the days of the Doges, of the 
Dorias, the Brignolis, Spinolas, and Fieschis, when they did 
so much in war, in art and literature to make Genoa feared 
and famed. I thought of the fair women and brave men who 
had slept where I lay ; of the dainty and mailed feet that had 
come up the marble stairs on missions of mercy, jealousy, 
crime, and love. I thought of the strange and interesting 
scenes that had occurred under those mediaeval walls, and of 
how many charming romances might be written by one who 
knew all. 

Much of the old furniture belonging to the palace is still in 
use at the hotel — mirror, bureaus, chairs, and tables — all 
heavily gilded, and each having a story that it cannot speak. 



REDUCED NOBLEMEN. 429 

A number of the Dorias still reside there, but in reduced 
circumstances. One of them, however, is very wealthy, and 
lives in Rome, renting his palace in Genoa. Singular how 
distinguished families run out. Andrea Dora, a namesake 
of him who so nobly served the State, keeps a wine shop near 
the Piazza delle Fontane Amorose, and is reputed to be a 
lineal descendant of the great man. The family, however, 
do not recognize him, and he seems quite contented to earn 
his bread by selling very bad wine ; hoping, it may be, with 
an Italian cunning that his proud kinsmen may drink it some 
day, and so give him his revenge. 

Giuseppe Fieschi, in the Via degli Orefici, where the fa- 
mous filagree workers in gold and silver have their establish- 
ments, is declared to be of the great Fieschi family. His 
grandfather fell into disrepute somehow, and his father and 
his gi*andson disgraced themselves by becoming industrious. 

I have been told that one of the eminent Spinolas not long 
ago was the controller of the destinies of a vetturo (Anglice 
was a hackman), but having drank too much one night, fell 
off the dock and was drowned. The trouble with him was not 
that he swallowed too much wine, but that he took too much 
water with it. 

The Italians are decidedly a reading people. They have a 
number of newspapers (called so because they contain no 
news), which they buy very freely, and pore over earnest- 
ly, possibly for the purpose of seeing why they are printed. 
They bear such names as i' Opinione Nazionale^ Ecco cT Italia, 
and Crazetta di Popolo, showing a democratic tendency, and 
are sold for one or two cents. While I was drinking a cup of 
coffee in La Concordia one evening, I picked up a journal, 
and found in it Horace Greeley's American Conflict (Ameri- 
cano Conflitto, by Orazzio Greeley.) Not the whole of it, as 
you may imagine, but about a thousand words. The paper 
had just begun to publish the translation, and its to-be-con- 
tinued was likely to last for the five years, at the rate of space 
it was giving to the work. 



4'^0 



TEE GALLEY SLAVES. 



Our idea of the Italians is that they do not read news- 
papers at all. They have not done so to any extent until re- 
cently, and the change is a good sign. No doubt the people 
are improving every way under their United Kingdom, and 
will yet surprise the world by their progress. 

The galley slaves, as they are still called, though the 
galleys are abolished, are kept in the Bagne on the dry dock. 
They are employed in the daytime on the public works in 
different parts of the city, and dressed in red — a color to 
which Genoa seems largely and very distastefully to incline. 
There are six or seven hundred of them, and they are, on the 
whole, a vicious, desperate-looking set of fellows as I have 
seen, though I have no doubt I should look no better than 
they if I were paraded through the streets for years branded 
as a felon. The murderers are distinguished by a black band 




GENOESE WOMEN. 

around their caps, and I noticed the black band was very 
common. All the convicts are pardoned when their sentence 
is half served, if the,y behq,ve themselves. 



THE COLUMBUS MONUMENT. 



431 



The Genoese women have peculiar, but not very pleasant 
faces. The Ligurians were never famous for beauty, and I 
hardly recall a single handsome feminine countenance, though 
I frequented the gardens and public promenades where there 
were many of the sex, and of the better classes. One custom 
I liked — the wearing of a thin muslin scarf — what the 
Americans call organdie, I think — upon their heads instead 
of bonnets. They pin the scarf to the hair, and let it fall 
gracefully over the head and shoulders. It is picturesque, 
and would make any woman look well, if looking well were 
in her power. 

In the Palazzo Doria Tursi, in the Via Nuova, now occupied 

as city offices, are preserved 
some interesting articles. 
Among them are various 
manuscript letters of Chris- 
topher Columbus respecting 
his will ; Paganini's violin ; 
a piece of embroidery illustra- 
ting the martyrdom of St. 
Lawrence, said to be nearly 
nineteen hundred years old, 
and a bronze table con- 
taining the award made 
A. U. C, 633, by Quintus 
Marcus Minutius and Quintus 
Fulvius Rufus between the 
Genuenses, the ancient 
Genoese, and the Viturii, 
respecting a certain terri- 
torial boundary. 




COLUMBUS MONUMENT. 



The Columbus Monument, in the Piazza di Acqua Yerde, is 
a white marble pediment, with Columbus and an American 
woman at the top, with figures below representing Geography, 
Justice, Law, and Religion. Christopher was a native of that 
city, which is one of the reasons I had for visiting it. I 
thought if he were kind enough to come all the way over 



432 A SINGULAR CHARITY. 

the ocean to discover America before much dependence 
could be placed in the regular line of steamers, I ought, 
as an American, to take the trouble to see where he was 
born. We owe much to Columbus for discovering our 
country. If he had not discovered it, where should we 
have been ? 

The Campo Santo (cemetery) of Genoa is renowned for 
beauty. It is elaborate and imposing, but its monuments 
and statues, grottoes and urns, fomitains and flowers, are so 
arranged as to give the burial place a stiif and artificial ap- 
pearance. Taste is not a Geneose quality. Some of their most 
prominent buildings are painted red, with a kind of coarse 
fresco all over the front that goes far to destroy anything like 
effect. 

The city has fifteen or sixteen religious establishments gov- 
erned by monastic rules, in which women are employed in 
various ways, but take no vows. In the largest of these, the 
Fieschine, some three hundred women are occupied in making 
lace, embroidery, and artificial flowers. 

The great Albergo de' Poveri is what its name implies, a 
hospital for the poor, and is outside the Porta Carbonara. It 
was founded three centuries ago, is capable of accommodating 
2,500 persons, and is generally full. Most of the inmates 
are old, but many of them are so young, healthy, and vigorous 
that it seems strange they should be there. Why don't they go 
to work, instead of living by charity ? That is a strong ar- 
gument in our country, but it is not there. Many Italians 
regard life without labor as a kind of glory, and their country 
being fertile, their climate mild, and little required to support 
the body — ^they support it after, the national fashion. Give 
an ordinary Italian a few bottles of wine, a flask of oil, 
sufficient poUenta, macaroni, and th% sunshine, and he will 
not concern himself about peace or war, the condition of finan- 
ces, or the state of his soul. But the people are improving in 
industry, thrift, and intelligence, and I believe that the end 
of the century will see them very different from what they 
have been. 



PREMIUM TO PAUPERISM. 433 

The inmates of the Albergo do certain kinds of work, me- 
chanical branches mainly, and do it very well. But they 
might do much more. The fact that they know they will 
be taken care of prevents them from having any ambition or 
incentive to exertion. When the girls reach a marriageable 
age they receive a respectable dowry, and the youths get a 
certain sum also if they wish to be husbands. Very fre- 
quently, owing to this inducement to wedlock, the inmates 
marry each other, and their children return to the hospital to 
live upon charity, as their parents have done before them. 
This seems very like giving a premium to pauperism ; but the 
Genoese do not so consider it. The hospital does much 
good ; but it does much harm also. The Italians need to feel 
the sense of individual responsibility. They have leaned so 
long upon their priests and princes that they have become 
disqualified from taking care of themselves. They are im- 
proving, however, as I have said, and their future will be 
brighter. 





CHAPTER LVI. 

MIDDLE ITALY. 

T Pisa I went to see the Cathedral and the 
^ Campo Santo, which many neglect altogether. 
The Cathedral is one of the finest in Europe, 
and is free from that damp, musty, grave-like 
odor that renders the atmosphere of Continental 
' '^f\^ churches so unpleasant. The pictures are very 
' "-^^V^ good, some of them excellent, and the music — I 
was there on a fete day — was such as I had no reason to ex- 
pect in so small a town as Pisa. The Campo Santo, the 
cemetery of the middle ages, is really an abbey, and very in- 
teresting. Its frescoes of the Triumph of Death, the Last 
Judgment, and the Inferno, are curious, even ludicrous, 
though they were designed to be solemn even to awfulness. 
The angels and priests dragging men out of their graves by 
the hair of the head, and of Christ and the Apostles sitting in 
the clouds like a number of smoking, beer-drinking Teutons, 
is too absurd, even for the admiration of the most orthodox. 
The dullest traveler can tell when he is in • Italy from th^ 
prevalence of beggars, if from no other cause. They greet you 
the moment you enter the country, and follow you until you 
quit it. I have been besought at least a hundred times an 
hour to give something to countless ragged creatures for the 
love of the Virgin ; they naturally supposing that such an 
appeal must move even the most stubborn heretic. 

Every church in Italy has its beggars. They stand or 
kneel, muttering, moaning, and praying at the entrance 
aware that all strangers visit the churches as objects of 
curiosity. The people of the country pay no more attention 



CnURCH BEGGARS. 



435 



to beggars than they do to the rustling leaves. The mendi- 
cants expect to get nothing from that quarter. They look for 
support from foreign sources entirely, and they know Ameri- 
cans by instinct. 




CHURCH BKGGARS. 



Victor Emanuel has made a vigorous effort to suppress 
professional mendicancy in his dominions ; but he can't, of 
course. He might as well try to prevent his countrymen 
from eating macaroni. To beg is as natural to a certain 
class of Italians as it is for them to live and be lazy. 

In Italy, as in other European countries, men kiss women 
at least before others, on the right and left cheek invariably. 
The French, and perhaps the other nations, consider it 
indelicate to kiss a woman's lips, for the reason, I suppose, 
that they cannot understand such a kiss in its purity. Their 
custom of getting two kisses for one might at first seem superior 
to ours, and is numerically. But one kiss on the lips — the ex- 
perienced declare — is worth a dozen on the cheeks. Lips 
were made to kiss and be kissed, and wliy should their pur- 
pose be set aside by a stupid conventionality ? If a woman 
is worth kissing at all, she is worth kissing properly. If 
you can't conscientiously kiss her lips, don't kiss her at all. 



436 



SIGBT-SEEING. 



In Italy they blow a horn before a train is to start ; in the 
United States they take one. In France they use napkins 
large enough for sheets, and drink brandy in their coffee. In 
Italy they sweeten their strawberries with rum, and spoil 
everything with garlic, and have various other customs we 
know not at all. * 

All the towns in Italy are not attractive ; and, besides, oc- 
casionally, one wearies so of sight-seeing that the most beauti- 
ful object loses its charm through an mifavorable or un- 
sjrmpathetic mood. 




LEANING TOWER. 



The leaning tower is the attraction in Pisa. It is strange 
so many go to see an ordinary column, two hundred feet high, 
sunk in the mud. 

Piacenza received its name from the ancient Romans — 



BOLOGNA. 



437 



satirical fellows, they ! — because there was and is nothing 
pleasant in it. 

Parma is of much more ancient and mediaeval renown, and 
reminds you of a decayed brickyard on a dusty day. It was 
destroyed during the wars of the Triumvirate, and Julius 
Cassar and Augustus made the mistake of rebuilding it. An 
earthquake visited it in 1832 — one of the few things that can 
visit it with advantage — and shook down some of its houses. 

Nature generally under- 
stands what she is about. 
Correggio has a very fine 
fresco upon the ceiling of 
the Duomo — at least it 
would be very fine if any 
one could see it. But 
between the distance and 
the crumbling ceiling, it 
is difficult to determine 
whether it is the Assump- 
tion of the Virgin or the 
remains of a hen-roost. 
Petrarch — when he was 
cracked about Laura di 
Noves, I suppose — direct- 
ed if he died in Parma, 
that he should be buried 
there. But he took par- 
ticular pains to die some- 
where else. Petrarch wasn't such a fool as many took him 
for. He evidently knew where to give up the ghost. 

By the roadside throughout the country is frequently seen 
a shrine representing some saint or the Crucifixion, at which 
the natives kneel with the utmost reverence. 

Modena is much like Parma, only more so. The most 
favorable view of it can be had from the window of an express 
train which does not stop at that station. If your eyesight 
is defective, all the better for the view. Rogers says some- 
thing like, 




WAYSIDE SHRINE. 



438 AN INSULTED DOG. 

" If ever thou should'st come, by choice or chance, 
To Modcna * * * 
Stop at the palace near the Reggio gate." 

But take my advice and don't go. 

Bologna, though one of the most interesting cities in Italy, 
is often neglected by tourists. In going from Florence to 
Venice, or vice versa, they pass it on the railway without 
giving a thought to the old Etruscan town, founded under 
the name of Felsina, it is said, nearly a thousand years before 
Christ. 

Such ancient places, living' mainly in the past, where 
commerce is dead and enterprise unknown, always attract 
me more than the centres of trade and travel. I remember 
B.avenna, Rimini, Ferrara, Mantua, and Verona with more 
pleasure than the gay and bustling towns that have a hold 
upon the present. 

To the unhistoric and unclassical mind Bologna is merely 
associated with the sausage of that name ; to the cultivated it 
represents a history of literature and art, the school of the 
Caracci, the triumphs of the University, the struggles of a 
brave and resolute people for independence. 

As I make it a point to do everything in any place I visit, 
I deemed it necessary to eat Bologna sausage in the city of 
its creation. I went into the Trattoria di Tre Re and ordered 
the famous Bologna. I had succeeded in swallowing some 
of it at home, and concluded I might do so there. I was 
mistaken. The sausage was so full of garlic, so greasy and 
so strong that I was unable to master it. 

I am sure it was genuine, it was so very bad. 

I tried to give it to a dog that came wistfully to the table, 
but he snuffed it, ran away and howled most dolorously. 
When a hungry Italian dog won't eat anything, it can't be 
very good for a human creature. My conscience troubled me 
for my treatment of the poor brute. I intended to do him a 
kindness, and I am sure he labors to this day under the con- 
viction that I designed to poison him. When you go to Bo- 
logna don't try to eat its sausage, even if the natives seek to 
disguise it under the euphonious name of mortadella. 



ANTIQUE APPEARANCE OF THE CITY. 439 

Becktord, author of " Vathek," called Bologna the city of 
sausages and puppies. The latter, a peculiar breed, have al- 
most entirely disappeared, and, I opine, their disappearance 
is traceable to the sausages. Indeed, I see in them cause and 
effect. 

The city is remarkable for its arcades (reminding you of 
Padua and Modena, in this respect), which, running under 
nearly all the houses, furnish protection from the sun and 
rain. You can walk for miles without seeing the sky, and 
consequently the umbrella and parasol business does not 
flourish there. The antique appearance of Bologna, with its 
picturesque mediaeval architecture, its crumbling palaces and 
quaint churches, is very interesting, and carries you back five 
or six centuries, when the Guelphs and Ghibellines fought so 
desperately, and the Yiscontis and Bentivoglios held such 
tyrannic sway. 

The Piazza Maggiore, or Yittorio Emmanuele — ^formerly 
the Forum, is a very attractive square. On one side is the 
Palazzo Pubblico, six himdred years old ; on another, the 
Palazzo del Podesta, an historic building of the twelfth 
century ; on the third, St. Petronio, a very large and unique 
church that has never been finished ; and on the fourth, the 
peculiar Portico de' Banchi. The square has several 
statues and fountains of curious workmanship, and is well 
deserving of attention. I went into it early one morning, 
while the market was in progress, and as I observed the 
peasants from the country in their varied and picturesque 
costumes, talking, laughing, and selling their fruits and veg- 
etables, I found it difficult to believe I was in the middle of 
the nineteenth century, and a stranger from beyond the seas. 

I expected to see Filippo Ugoni or King Enzio appear in 
the Piazza with their armed hosts, and renew the contest that 
lasted for so many years, and cost so many precious lives. I 
was brought back to the present by the effbrt of a small boy 
to sell me a Bologna newspaper, and by the zeal of a vettu- 
rino, who was resolved to drive me to the Campo Santo. 

The modern part of Bologna is very well built, and some 



440 LEANING TOWERS. 

new houses, an unusual thing there, have been erected. 
The surrounding country is very fertile, producing so liber- 
ally that the city has received the name of La Grassa. Its 
present population is only about 75,000 ; but within a few 
years it has given signs of a new life. It is very different, 
however, from what it has been. Dante thought the Bologn- 
ese dialect the purest of Italy, and now it is so full of harsh- 
ness and barbarism that it is almost impossible to understand 
it. 

The Leaning Towers are the greatest curiosities of the 
city, though they have no architecture to recommend them. 
One of them, the Garisenda, is one hundred and thirty feet 
high, and eight feet out of the perpendicular ; the other, the 
Asinclli, two hundred and fifty-six feet high, and four and a 
half feet out of the perpendicular. They are seven and a 
half centuries old, and look as if they might have stood in 
the time of the flood. The Asinelli commands a fine view 
of the country, and as climbing is one of my recreations, I 
went up it, and spent a few hours in looking over the town, 
at the fertile plain of the Romagna, the Veronese, and Eugan- 
ean hills, and the far-off white peaks of the Tyrolese and 
Carinthian Alps. 

The old cobbler who was there fifteen years ago still acts 
as custodian, and seems as delighted when you give him a 
franc as if he had received a dukedom. I feel interested in 
the old fellow, for he says he is always happy. He has neither 
wife nor children, and never owned ten dollars at any one time. 
He has perfect health ; works every day at his trade ; sleeps 
at the base of the column ; drinks his bottle of cheap wine, 
and has his pipe every evening on the piazza. He is a prac- 
tical philosopher, for he wants nothing he has not, and is con- 
tented with what he has. It is common to say no man would 
exchange situations with any other. I have often wished I 
was the cobbler of Bologna. 

The University, once so famous, and more than seven cen- 
turies old, has now gone into obscurity. It had ten thousand 
students in the twelfth century, and the fame of its professors 



THE UNIVERSITY. 441 

^vas world-wide. It was the first school in which dissection 
of the human body was practiced, and in it Galvanism was dis- 
covered. I had heard so mucli of the University that I paid 
a visit to it. It has been in the former Palazzo Cellesi for 
the last sixty years, and its recitation rooms are inferior to 
those of our common schools. I was^ surprised to see the very 
ordinary benches and desks of unpainted wood cut and hacked 
as in village school-houses. 

I thought of the time when Novella d' Andrea, daughter 
of the canonist, filled her father's chair, and lectured on jur- 
isprudence, behind a curtain, lest her wondrous beauty should 
distract the students. Then of Laura Bassi, Professor of 
Mathematics and Physic, to whose lectures many learned 
women of France and Germany went for instruction ; of Ma- 
donna Manzolina, deeply skilled in anatomy, and of Matilda 
Tambroni, the rare Greek scholar. 

The library, though it contains only a hundred and thirty 
thousand volumes, is well selected, many of the books having 
been chozen by Mezzofante, who, at the time of his death, 
spoke forty-two tongues. Byron, you remember, said of the 
ecclesiastical librarian : " I tried him in all the languages of 
which I knew only an oath or an adjuration of the gods against 
postilions, savages, pirates, boatmen, sailors, pilots, gondo- 
liers, muleteers, camel-drivers, vettm^ini, postmasters, horses 
and houses, and by Heaven he puzzled me in my own idiom." 

At present the University is little more than a medical 
school, and is hardly known outside of Italy. In its palmy 
days it was second to none in reputation and popularity. 

In the Palazzo del Podesta I have seen the room in which 
King Enzios, the son of Frederick the Second, was kept a 
prisoner for two-and-twenty years. He was captured in bat- 
tle, and no effort of his father could obtain his release. The 
poor fellow died in confinement. He was handsomely enter- 
tained, but never allowed to go beyond his prison. Few per- 
sons were permitted to see him, and they usually in the pres- 
ence of others. Lucia Vendagoli, a beautiful and distinguished 
woman of the time, felt deep sympathy with the poor youth ; 



442 ACADEMY OF FJNE ARTS. 

continued to see him often — too often, perhaps — and fell in 
love with him eventually. The child born to them was the 
founder of the Bentivoglio family, who afterward gave th^ 
Popes so much trouble. 

The Academy of Fine Arts has an excellent collection of 
pictures. I do not refer to the modern paintings, but to those 
of the Bolognes'e scliodl, of which Ludovico Caracci and his 
cousins, Annibale and Agostino, were the leaders. Guido 
Reni, Domenichino, and Guercino, were among its most emi- 
nent representatives. 

The Academy has several hundred pictures, those of the 
Caracci being more numerous than in any other city. 

Raffaelle's Saint Cecilia in Ecstasy is one of his most fa- 
mous works. It shows Cecilia in a trance of delight hearing 
the music of the celestial choir. She has dropped her lyre, 
and is gazing upward while surrounded by Paul, John the 
Evangelist, Augustin, and Mary Magdalen. The coloring is 
very fine, having great richness and depth, and the drawing 
and expression of the figures are remarkable. 

Guido Reni's famous Crucifixion is there, but is not equal 
to its reputation. His Madonna della Picta — the Virgin 
weeping over the body of Christ above, and saints Petronius, 
Carlo Borromeo, DominiCk, Francis and Proculus being below 
— is a fine specimen of art ; the face of St. Francis bearing a 
striking resemblance to the late President Lincoln. Guerci- 
no's William, Duke of Aquitaine, receiving the religious habit 
from Saint Felix, and St. Bruno, praying in the desert, are 
among the artist's best productions. Both were carried to 
Paris by Napoleon and remained for some years. 

The best picture in the gallery, to my mind, is Domenichi- 
no's Death of St. Peter, Martyr. The naturalness of the figure 
is striking. The terror of the priest Ijang on the ground is 
exquisitely depicted, and the Saint seems endowed with life. 
I observed it with a glass, and the detail and finish of the 
work are wonderful. 

In the Cathedral is the Annunciation, the best work of Ludo- 
vico Caracci, which it is said caused his death. It is on the 



AlV AR TIS T GRIE VED TO DEA TH. 443 

arch above the high altar, and when he had completed it, and 
the scaffold had been removed, he grieved that the foot of the 
angel before the Yirgin was a trifle crooked. He offered to 
put up a new scaffold that he might retouch the painting, but 
his urgent request was refused, and the old man died of mor- 
tification and grief a few days after. 

A portion of the house is shown here in which Imelda Lam- 
bertazzi lived and died. She was the mistress of Bonifazio 
Gieremei, and belonged to a family of the Ghibelline faction, 
while her lover was of the Guelphs. The bitter hatred of the 
rival families had been kept in check by the authorities until 
Bonifazio, having made a clandestine appointment with Imel- 
da, as had become his habit, they met, blinded by passion, 
under her father's roof. He went to her apartments, and his 
presence was discovered by a spy who at once informed the 
lady's brothers, feasting and carousing in a palace near by. 

Flushed with wine and burning to revenge themselves against 
the audacious youth for the stain upon their sister's honor 
and their family escutcheon, they hastened to the place of 
rendezvous. The lovers heard them coming, and Bonifazio 
besought Imelda to fly. She had hardly concealed herself 
when her half frantic relatives dashed into the chamber, and 
dispatched Gieremei with poisoned daggers. Alarmed at 
their rash deed, they sought to conceal the body, dragging it 
into an adjacent court-yard, throwing it into a drain, and cov- 
ering it with rubbish. 

Imelda, from her hiding place, listened with her soul in her 
ear; but hearing no struggle, no cry, fondly fancied her lover 
might have escaped. She returned to the apartment. Boni- 
fazio was not there ; but the floor was covered with blood, and 
by the crimson drops she traced her way to the corpse. It 
was still warm. She knew he had been stabbed with poisoned 
daggers because her brothers carried such weapons. She 
hoped to preserve him. She attempted to suck the poison 
from Bonifazio' s wounds, hoping to save his life as Queen 
Eleanor saved her royal spouse. It was too late; but the 
venom his mistress had taken into her mouth communicated 



444 A LOVE TRAGEDY. 

itself to her blood, and she expired in blissful agony on her 
lover's breast. 

This tragedy intensified the wrath of the hostile families 
who determined to be revenged on each other ; gave rise to a 
fierce fight in the street, and a series of contests that kept 
the city in turmoil for many years. 

Some persons have erroneously supposed the story of Romeo 
and Juliet taken from this painful incident, and that the tale 
of the Capulets and Montagues is merely fiction. It is high 
time the unhappy lovers of Bologna were rescued from the 
oblivion into which they have sunk, and that they received 
their meed of sentimental fame. 

We have so few lovers who have fairly and romantically 
died for each other that we can't afford to let even a single 
pair c f them slip. Sentimental young persons who have ex- 
hausted Abelard, Heloise, Tasso, Leonora, Camoens, and Cata- 
rina, must remember Imelda and Bonifazio. They were no 
shams and make-believes. They loved, indeed, with a love 
as strong as death. 




CHAPTER LVII. 



LIFE AND TRAVEL IN ITALY. 




ERTAIN parts of Italy, such as the Yalley of the 
Riviera, the Plains of Lombardy, and the region 
between Rome and Florence are delightful. They 
^ are crowded with landscapes, and almost surfeit 
''C y^^ ^^^^ beauty. You want to stay amid the charm- 
r1|^^2f ing scenes forever, and dream your life away. 

ni^ Americans and the English suffer more from cold 
in Italy in winter than they would at home, for there are no 
means of keeping warm. A pannier of wood, as it is called, is 
nothing more than a bundle of vine twigs, that smoke much 
and burn little. The bleak, penetrating wind sweeps down 
from the Alps and the Apennines even as far south as Naples, 
and kills invalids picturesquely. When people with consump- 
tion go to Italy they should make their wills first. If, how- 
ever, they have any will of their own, they would better remain 
at home. They can then benefit their physician by making 
his bill larger, and spite their relatives, if they have any pro- 
perty, by living much longer than wealthy people have any 
right to. 

All that is said about the delicious atmosphere, and cloud- 
less sky, and bracing breezes of Italy, applies almost equally 
well to other countries in the same latitude. Pleasant weather 
is like pleasant weather anywhere else, and disagreeable 
weather fully as disagreeable. The repeated declarations that 
in the air of Italy you feel it a joy merely to live, is mad rub- 
bish. It is not a joy to live anywhere, unless you are fortun- 
ate in temperament, circumstance, and destiny. 



•146 BETTER THAN REPRESENTED. 

The time I have spent in Italy has proved to me that the 
Italians are much misrepresented. We are told by the tourist 
and general letter- writef that their life is a continued swindle ; 
that you are cheated at every turn ; that unless you are ever 
on the alert you will be hourly robbed. The Italians have 
their faults. They are like children. They tell falsehoods 
and will defraud you in little ways. It belongs to their tem- 
perament, and is an inherited habit. But they are for the 
most part polite and kind, trustful and loyal. Vetturini, 
landlords, guides, servants of all sorts, are courteous, patient,' 
and accommodating, and when you show them the smallest 
civility, they a})preciate and remember it. 

I have seldom found a vetturino who demanded his buona 
mano ; but when it was given him he so received it as to make 
the giving a pleasure. 

As to the stories of dishonest hotel-keepers, all I can say is 
I have not found them true. If you stay with the landlords only 
half a day, they make out your bill and put down each item in 
it ; so if there be anything wrong you can detect it at once. I 
have been in all the principal cities and towns, and I do not 
remember a single instance in which the bill rendered con- 
tained anything I had not had. At the cafes and restaurants 
every article you order is specified and the price set opposite, 
even if your breakfast or dinner amount to no more than fifty 
soldi (fifty cents). 

In your room everything is safe. I had no hesitation in 
leaving my watch, jewelry, and money on the bureau or 
table, and going out for thfe day. It may not have been pru- 
dent ; but such a thing as a robbery at a hotel is almost un- 
heard of on the continent. I never thought of locking the 
• door of my chamber if I made an excursion out of town, and 
not a pin nor a scrap of paper was ever removed from its 
place. 

I have left canes, umbrellas, books, lorgnettes at the the- 
atres, in the cars and in shops. When I went for them, 
though a day or two after, they were always waiting for me, 
;and it seemed a sincere pleasure to the finders to restore them. 



ABOUT WINE. 447 

If this be dishonesty or swindling I enjoy it, and I should 
like to see more of it on this side of the ocean. 

Then everybody is polite on the continent ; and politeness, 
to my mind, is the first of social virtues. All that we ask 
of ninety-nine hundredths of the men we meet is politeness ; 
for they stand related to us only through manners. 

I feel no concern about the financial trustworthiness of Mr. 
Jones, or the private morals of Mr. Wiggins, when I ride down 
town with him in the morning, or take luncheon opposite him 
in the afternoon. But if Mr. Jones thriists his elbow into me, 
or brushes his boots against my trowsers ; if Mr. Wiggins 
puts his knife into the butter, or eats with an emphasis, that 
is quite another matter. I should much prefer, as far as I 
am personally affected, that either gentleman might swindle 
his creditors, or be in love with another man's wife. Indeed, 
I should rather dine with a well-bred assassin than an ill- 
mannered saint ; and I think most of us would. 

It is said that the farther we go East the Detter manners 
we find, and that the less political freedom men have the 
more courteous they are. This may or may not be so ; but 
if it be true, I should be glad to see some of our countrymen 
reduced to bondage. Liberty is excellent ; but if some of it 
be not used for courtesy, it might as well be withheld. No 
one has the right to be free who fails to recognize the duties 
— and politeness is the first — which freedom imposes on him. 

Here we are constantly told that Europe is the best place 
for good wine ; that? it is as cheap as water ; that we shall 
never know what good wine is until we go abroad. A vast 
deal of cheap wine is to be had there, but you find it very 
dear after you have drank it. The vin ordinaire of France is 
pure and palatable, and costs next to nothing, but it is too 
thin to be satisfactory. The wine that deserves the name is 
eight to ten francs a bottle. The vino nostrale of Italy is only 
poor vinegar deteriorated. I swallowed it for a few weeks 
because the water was not pleasant, but afterwards I chose 
lemonade, which is rich cordial in comparison. I have tried 
all kinds of Italian wine, Asti, Frascati, Tuscany, Falernian, 



448 POLITENESS OF OFFICIALS. 

and Lacryinae Christi, and the last two, the best quality, to 
be had in Naples alone, are the only palatable wines I have 
found. They were not much to boast of, though the Lacrymae 
has a wide reputation, and Horace has extolled the Falernian 
to the stars. 

I have been audacious enough to order Sherry, Port, Ma- 
laga, and Champagne, and all of them were the worst that 
ever passed my lips. They were chemicalized, of course, 
and more obnoxious than they are at cheap bar-rooms in New 
York. The fact is, they adulterate wine on the continent as 
they do in the United States, whenever they find it profitable. 
The wine of the country, though highly watered, is pure be- 
cause it is cheaper than any decoction they can put into it. 

Cheap wine everywhere is poor wine. If you want good 
wine you must pay for it, and then you are frequently de- 
ceived. 

The contrast between traveling in the Old and New World 
is most striking. All railway officials abroad are as uniformly 
courteous and accommodating as ours are rude and dis- 
obliging. Every question is civilly answered, every attention 
shown. The persons who ride with you a few miles lift their 
hat when they enter the car, and, when they leave it say, 
" Bon voyage, monsieur," or " Buon giorno, signore," though 
you have not spoken a syllable to them, and they never ex- 
pect to meet you again. 

But that is insincere ; they don't mean anything by it, 
some one insists. 

Perhaps they don't ; and yet it is of such'little nothings the 
agreeableness of life is made up. 

What a marked contrast is all this to our own land ! How 
different from the insolent hotel clerks, the insufferable hack- 
men, the disagreeable servants, the trickery and fraud prac- 
tised upon travelers in various ways ! I have heard tourists 
long to get again into the English-speaking counties after 
being a few months on the continent. I don't feel as they 
do. I am more at home where the most ignorant people know 
enough to be polite. Travel is a positive pleasure on the 



FEEING SERVANTS. 449 

continent, and I shrank from the idea of returning to the 
vast cars, the bellowing conductors, the slamming doors, the 
disagreeable crowd, the roaring hackmen, and the insolent 
underlings who make travel in America a trial and a tor- 
ment. It may all be well with this country in a century or 
two ; but a tew more generations must look with leniency on 
the giant. He has been so occupied in growing that he 
has not had time to polish his periods or perfect his manners. 

The Italians have the reputation of being indolent ; but 
those at the hotels are very active at the time you arrive. 
No matter how little baggage you have, they divide it into a 
half dozen little pieces, and each carries something. I used 
to carry a silk traveling cap, and one day, at Modena, a 
stout fellow took it out of my hand, and putting it on his 
shoulder, as if it had been a trunk, bore it up stairs. He 
could not have shown more satisfaction if he had performed 
one of the labors of Hercules, and at the door of my room 
he paused and wiped his brow in the most exhausted manner. 
As the cap did not weigh more than four ounces, and he 
weighed fully two hundred pounds, I did not waste much 
sympathy upon him. 

The object of the porters and waiters in seizing your bag- 
gage in this style is to claim a fee. The Italian hotels in 
general have now adopted the English rule of putting service 
in the bill, whether any be rendered or not ; but the under- 
lings expect a douceur all the same. They don't ask for it 
usually by word of mouth, but they do with their faces, man- 
ners, and gestures, quite as plainly as if they spoke. 

At Lucca one of the carriers told me when he brought me 
the bill that I might give him something if I wished to. I 
told him the service had been charged. He said that was 
for the chamber, not for the table. I informed him I wanted 
all the service included in the account. Then he confessed 
that it was all there ; but what I gave nim would be a kind- 
ness, and looked so pleading I handed him a franc. 

A few minutes after, another fellow appeared with a similar 
petition. I handed him a franc also, and he disappeared to 



450 CITY OF FORLI. 

give place to another I had never seen at all. I then refused. 
The fellows who had been paid had gone out of sight, and if 
I had continued to bestow francs, no doubt I should have 
found twenty of the beggars who had done some special ser- 
vice for me. 

At Spezia I tried the gratuity for an experiment. It was 
not a success, and I did not repeat it under similar circum- 
stances. The Italian servants are never satisfied. Give them 
a franc, and they want five francs ; give them five, and they 
think they should have a Napoleon. And yet of all ser- 
vants they seem to me, the French perhaps excepted, the least 
disagreeable and annoying. 

The ancient and romantic little city of Forli, which lies at 
the foot of the Apennines, about forty miles from Bologna, is 
rather oif the beaten road of travel, and has as much of 
the mediaeval flavor as any Italian town I recall. Its 
population is not above sixteen or seventeen thousand ; 
but it is full of associations, and impressed me more than 
Ferrara or Faenza, Mantua or Rimini, with all their mouldy 
memories of the past. It has its theatre and opera, as may 
be supposed, though neither the one nor the other is of a 
very high order. Still, I liked to go there, and to make up 
what the music lacked by pondering on what it suggests in 
regard to the historic past. 

I was sitting one night in the pit, when a gentleman at my 
side entered into conversation with me, and I discovered that 
he was an American, the first I had met there. At the close 
of the performance we began to criticise it, when he remarked 
that he had witnessed a most extraordinary entertainment 
on that very stage, which had taken him altogether by sur- 
prise. 

" Indeed," he continued, " I shall not forget it if I live 
a hundred years. Its impression will never be removed." 

^' That is very singular," I said. " I can't imagine how 
any very remarkable performance can be given in so small a 
city as this. The music must always be inferior where the 
patronage is so slight. Be kind enough to tell me what 



AN ADVENTURE. 451 

there was extraordinary in the representation of which you 
speak." 

" Well, here we are at the Albergo. Let us go in and 
order a bottle of Lachrymae Christi, and I'll tell you all about 
it. 

" It was late in the autumn, seven or eight years ago. I 
was on my way from Bologna to Rimini, and concluded to 
stay here overnight, as I had never seen Forli before. In the 
evening, as I was wandering around, I passed the theatre, 
and, observing that Bellini's ' Capuletti e Montecchi ' was to 
be given, I went in. It was a little after the hour ; but I 
found the opera not yet begun. Though the house was 
tolerably full, I had no difficulty in getting a seat. I waited 
patiently for fifteen minutes, and still no signs that any of the 
Capulets or Montagues had as yet been born. I did not 
wonder that the audience displayed some vexation and dis- 
appointment in cries of ' Basta ! hasta I ' I sat for ten 
minutes longer. The house was growing somewhat uproarious, 
and I was on the point of going out when the stage-bell rang 
for the orchestra, and the instrumentalists began the sad and 
tender overture. That done, the long-delayed curtain rose, 
but on quite a different scene from that recorded in the 
libretto. 

" Instead of the members of the rival houses, testy and 
turbulent, some twenty men, in the picturesque costume of. 
the Abruzzi, appeared drawn up across the stage with guns 
levelled at the audience. One of their number, who seemed 
to be their chief, stepped to the foot-lights, and informed the 
people in front, in very un-Tuscan Italian, that they would be 
instantly shot if they made the least resistance. 

" It occurred to me that this was quite a new version of an 
opera I had supposed myself entirely familiar with, and, in all 
my recollection of the lyric repertoire, I could not think of ar v 
drama which began exactly in that way. 

" The audience was evidently dissatisfied with the first 
scene, and many of then\j in spite of the menace and the 
levelled guns, started pell-mell out of the house. A number 



452 ITALIAN BRIGANDS AS A CTORS. 

of the ladies screamed and jumped up in the boxes ; but, in a 
few minutes, they became calm and quiet, and showed more 
coolness and self-discipline than their natural protectors. 

" For myself, though I did not particularly relish the 
situation, I felt more amused than alarmed at its unexpected 
novelty, and I waited to see what would happen next. I 
noticed that the men who had attempted to quit the theatre 
had returned paler than when they sought to go out, and I 
overheard one of them say, ' The doors are all guarded by 
armed men, and we shall certainly be murdered, every one of 
us ! ' This was comforting at least, and I remembered with 
a kind of melancholy satisfaction that, as I had no creditors, I 
should leave no one to mourn for me, if the worst came to 
the worst. 

" Fill your glass, my friend. Let me assure you that in 
this world no man is missed unless he leave debts behind 
him. Therefore, always owe somebody something if you wish 
to be remembered. 

" The next thing in the programme was the entrance into 
the theatre of ten or twelve more of the black-bearded, peak- 
hatted, amateur or professional artists, who looked as if they 
would cut a throat for ten baiocchi, and that the rate would 
be reduced if murders were required by the dozen. The new- 
comers, gun in hand and stiletto in belt, went to everybody 
in the house, and used such persuasive speech as to induce 
them to part with their valuables. They transacted business 
more rapidly and efficiently than I had ever known it to be 
transacted in Italy. 

" In less than a minute, a fellow, who might have been 
poisoner and assassin-in-chief to the Borgias, stepped up to 
me, and, lifting his hat, said : 

'■'•'' Buona sera, signore ; scusdtemi;' and held out his 
hand for my personal property. 

" I had prepared for him by concealing my watch and purse 
in an inside pocket. I presented two or three bank-notes 
received some time before in Palermo and not current any- 
where, with an I. 0. U. taken from an imposter in Paris, and 



SOMETHING NEW IN R OBBER Y. 453 

worth ten per cent, less than nothing. Determined not to be 
outdone in politeness, I remarked, as I handed him the 
precious treasure : 

" ' Siete molto cortese.^ 

" He took what I offered without question, and saying, 
' Cosi, va bene ; grazie ngnore^ turned his rapacious atten- 
tion to my neighbor. 

" Very soon the robbery was complete, and the thieves 
quitted the theatre, while the leader of the band (I don't 
mean the director of the orchestra) ordered the strangers on 
the stage to recover and shoulder arms, which they did, and 
marched off without a word. 

" As soon as the bandits had gone, such a chattering, and 
swearing, and general tumult, arose among the audience, who 
then felt free to express their feelings at the outrage, that I 
could not help laughing. While this confusion was at its 
height, the manager appeared before the foot-lights and made 
an explanation of what had taken place. 

" He said that, just as the performance was about to begin, 
a band of brigands had descended from the Apennines, sur- 
rounded the theatre, taken possession of all the entrances, 
bound the artists and everybody behind the scenes, and then 
proceeded to plunder the audience in the manner I have 
described. He thought there were about one hundred of 
them in all, and expressed the hope that the infernal 
scoundrels would yet be captured and shot — a sentiment 
which awoke general sympathy and hearty applause, but not 
an atom of expectation. He added, moreover, that he was 
very sorry for the unpleasant but unavoidable occurrence ; 
that he was willing to refund the money we had paid for ad- 
mission, and would be only too happy if the bandits would 
also make restitution. If we cared, however, to hear the 
opera, he would be charmed to present it, and so, bowing, 
he retired, amid loud bravos and clapping of hands. 

" Nobody quitted the theatre ; and, as I fancied, some 
other novelty might be offered, my curiosity impelled me to 
remain. 



454 



THE AFTER-PIECE. 



" Bellini's composition was very fairly rendered. The 
artists and audience were in unusually good spirits after the 
peculiar contre-temps, and were on the best terms with each 
other. 

" I felt some desire to know whether this sort of thing 
happened often or only occasionally, and on inquiry I was 
told it was altogether unprecedented. I was glad of this, for 
I like novelties, even when they are somewhat disagreeable, 
and I consider that episode worth twice the price of admission. 
In fact, this cool and ingenious method of robbing a whole 
audience pleased me so much that, whenever I am in this 
part of the country, I visit Forli in hope of seeing it again. 

" I have known a great many changes of programme during 
an opera season, but that was the first and last time I ever 
knew ' Fra Diavolo ' substituted literally for the ' Capuletti e 
Montecchi ' on any stage. I like Bellini ; but I prefer 
bandits. Camiere^ cavate il tappo e quella bottiglia.^* 





CHAPTER LVIII. 

FLORENCE. 

IRENZE LA BELLA, as the Italians call it, 
appears to more advantage during May, and 
early in June than at any other season. Then 
the weather is charming. The days are perfect — 
Nature's editions of poetry bound in blue and gold, 
— and the nights, star-studded and moonlit, are 
deliciously cool, exactly of the temperature to ren- 
der out-door life pleasant, and sleep refreshing. Evening 
rides and promenades are of course enjoyable, and are made 
the most of by the pleasure-loving population who throng the 
Lung-Arno, the Via Tornabuoni and other prominent thor- 
oughfares. 

The Cascine, the principal park and drive, is very gay to- 
ward smiset with handsome carriages and horses. All the 
fashion and culture goes there to visit, as well as to drive, 
and one has an opportunity to see the finest and best-dressed 
men and women of the city. The Cascine has charming 
walks, a zoological garden, a pyramidal fountain, a caf^, a 
beautiful villa, and is the most attractive spot about Florence. 
To drive in the Cascine and to have a box at the opera is to be 
fashionable in Florence. 

There is much wealth in the town, which displays itself in 
the elaborate toilets of the privileged and prosperous classes, 
who are fond of show and every kind of social dissipation. 

The advantage of being in Italy in spring and early sum- 
mer is that you see the people of the country instead of the 
crowd of English and Americans who axe there during the 



456 F^ ORENCE <• THE BEA UTIFUL:' 

winter. The Italians do not seem to like foreigners, and 
keep within doors when the annual invasion begins. After 
the month of April they feel that their country is their own. 
They go out and lead the life which is natural to them — one 
of dreamy indolence and sensuous indulgence. I know no 
people who get more satisfaction out of existence. They 
dwell in the passing hour, and will not permit the future to 
trouble them. We fret and wear ourselves out before we have 
reached middle age, so taxing our nerves and will that when 
we have leisure we have not the power of enjoying it. 

Florence does not deserve its self-given title, " The 
Beautiful ;" for, apart from its situation, there is no particu- 
lar beauty in it. It is interesting, however, and several weeks 
can well be spent there. It is famous for its eminent men, 
and was, you know, the seat of the famous Medici family, 
who acquired immense fortunes by their commercial enter- 
prises. They really deserved the name of merchant princes, 
which is so much abused in tliis country. If a man in trade 
grows rich here by the practice of all the arts of selfishness 
and meanness he is often styled a merchant prince, especially 
if he happens to buy a few daubs and monstrous marbles, 
and a lot of books he never reads. 

Dante was born there, and a splendid statue of white mar- 
ble is erected to his memory in the Piazza Santa Croce. The 
pedestal, twenty-two feet high, is adorned with four reliefs 
representing scenes from the " Divina Commedia ;" at the cor- 
ners are four lions, and about the base are the arms of the 
principal cities of Italy. The poet is buried in Ravenna, but 
all honor is done to him in his native city. His portraits are 
seen everywhere. They are not the ideal faces we are accus- 
tomed to, but they are true to nature. In the Ufizzi Gallery is a 
cast of the bard's face, taken just after death. It is very thin 
and worn, and inexpressibly sad. It looks much like the face of 
an American Indian, and might easily be mistaken therefor. 

The Cathedral, Santa Maria del Fiore, in the Piazza del 
Duomo is one of the largest and most imposing churches in 
Europe. It was begun in 1398, and still looks incomjilete, from 



CHVR CHES AND PALA C£S. 457 

the fact that it has no fa9ade, the old one having been torn 
down nearly three centuries ago to give place to a new one. 
It is Italian gothic, 522 feet long, and 322 feet broad, and 280 
feet high. Its dome is larger than that of St. Peter's at 
Rome, or St. Paul's at London, but is out of proportion to 
the body of the church, which is built of various colored mar- 
bles, and has a very singular and impressive appearance. Its 
interior is plain, even to baldness. 

The Campanile, the most remarkable bell-tower in Italy, is 
275 feet high, and furnishes a splendid view of the city, the 
valley of the Arno, the surrounding heights and the distant 
mountains. I enjoyed, exceedingly, the panorama from its 
summit. The Baptistery is world-renowned for its bronze 
doors. Two of them, by Ghiberti, were declared by Michel 
Angelo worthy to be the gates of Paradise. 

Santo Croce, another famous church, is 460 feet long and 
134 feet broad. Its new facade, of black and white marble, 
is handsome, but rather staring in style. The church is 
nearly six centuries old, and contains monuments to Dante, 
Alfieri, Macchiavelli, Nobili, Aretino, Galileo, and others. 
Michel Angelo and the Countess of Albany (Ahieri's mis- 
tress), are buried there. 

The Ufizzi and Pitti Palaces contain the largest and best 
art collections in the world. The two are connected by a cov- 
ered gallery extending over the Arno, and ten minutes is re- 
quired to walk from one to the other. The Ufizzi has the . 
famous Venus de' Medici, in which I was sorely disappointed. 
It has little spirit or suggestiveness, even if Cleomenes did 
make it, and the head is too small for the body. If the Venus 
represented the ideal of Greek beauty, we have assuredly im- 
proved upon it. The Venus de' Medici is far inferior to my 
mind, to the Venus of Milo, the Venus of the Capitol, or even 
the Venus of Canova in the Pitti. I have studied the 
Medicean Venus, but I cannot understand how it obtained its 
reputation. The face is not handsome nor expressive, and I 
am sure there are many women in America who are comelier 
and have better figures than the celebrated marble. 



458 RENOWNED PAINTINGS. 

The Ufizzi has probably three hundred statues, and over 
two thousand pictures, some of which are the best on the 
Continent. The Tribune contains the " Venus," the 
" Apollino," the " Wrestlers," and the " Grinder," in mar- 
ble, and several of Raffaelle's best paintings, Titian's two 
celebrated " Yenuses" (they are supposed to be portraits 
of the mistresses of the Due d' Urbino), Guercino's " En- 
dymion" and " Sybil of Samos," and Andrea del Sarto's 
" Madonna and Saints." 

The two halls full of portraits of the most distinguished 
painters, done by themselves, are very interesting. They in- 
clude every one, from Raffaelle to the artists of the present 
day. 

The Pitti has five hundred paintings of note, among them 
some choice Tintorettos, Rubenses, Salvator Rosas, Carlo 
Dolces, Velasquezs, Guidos, Caraccis, Vandykes, Murillos, 
and Coreggios. The saloons of the Palace are finely fres- 
coed and ornamented, but they are so much like the palaces 
you see all the way from Paris to Naples that you care little 
for them. The galleries furnish the means of study for 
months, and are delightful for esthetic loungers. 

Victor Emanuel lives in the Pitti (or did until the capital 
was removed to Rome), which, as the Ufizzi, the Palazzo 
Vecchio, and Loggia dei Lanzi, is built of dark and mas- 
sive stone, and looks like a grim fortress of the feudal times. 
I have seen Victor often. He is a king who is not kingly. 
He does not care much for his royalty, it is said by those who 
claim to know. He is a physical being, who likes open air, 
streams, mountains, forests ; and yet has no sentimental as- 
sociations with Nature. He is neither poetic nor fastidious, 
not at all an Italian in feeling or in temperament. If he had 
more intellect and culture, he might be a voluptuary. As it 
is, he is the antipodes of a spiritualist. He is more like an 
old German baron of the past century than a king of the 
present day. Give him a boar to hunt, and he whistles away 
the cares of state ; a rustic feast to sit at, and he drowns un- 
pleasant memories in draughts of Lachrymae Christi. 



THE KING'S PERSONAL APPEARANCE. 159 

No one would suspect the careless and jolly Victor of being 
either an Italian or a king. He is, I repeat, more Teutonic 
than Tuscan, and in semblance more plebeian than patrician. 
He has a coarse face, which would be hard but for its sensual 
lines. It is broad, and yet compressed between the chin and 
forehead, as if it had been melted and run into too small a 
mold. He might sit for one of Rubens's satyrs, and the copy 
would require little alteration. An easy, good-natured fel- 
low, though his short aspiring nose gives him an air of mean- 
ness and suspicion, he is too indolent to be tyrannical and too 
careless to be just. He enjoys royalty, because it gives him 
an opportunity to have a good time ; and to have a good time 
is with him the best thing that is to be gotten out of life. 

He can hardly be called popular ; nor is he unpopular, for 
he is associated with the idea of a United Italy, dear to the 
Italian heart. He is as much attached to his country as a 
man of his constitution can be ; and would be glad to see it 
great, if its greatness did not interfere with his convenience 
and material comfort. 

The Boboli Gardens are visit-worthy. Cosimo I. deserves 
the credit of originating them, having appropriated a large 
sum to them more than three centuries and a half ago. 
They are on the side of a hill and command fine views of the 
city. The long walks are bordered with evergreens and 
statues, and, with the grottoes and basins and casinos, make 
the place very pleasant. It is estimated that several mil- 
lions of dollars have been expended on the Gardens. The 
open space called the amphitheatre was formerly devoted to 
the merry-makings of the Court, and is full of associations 
with the Medicis, their gaieties and gallantries, which latter 
were by no means few. It was once said there never was one 
of the Medici who had not half a dozen mistresses, and that 
the Father of his Country and the Cardinals were no excep- 
tions. That may have been slander ; but all contemporaneous 
accounts agree in representing them as a family of supremely 
liberal morals. 

Above the Boboli is the Fortezza di Belvedere, built b> 



4G0 FAMOUS STATUES. 

Ferdinand I. in 1590, which is of little use now, though it 
adds to the picturesqueness ot the hill on which it stands. 

The Piazza della Signoria, is the most noticeable in the city. 
Formerly the Grand Ducal Square, it is now the center of 
traffic, and full of retail venders and hawkers of all sorts. 
Savonarola and two of his monks were burned at the stake 
there in 1498. The Palazzo Vecchio, once the seat of the 
Republican Government, still frowns down there, with its 
history of six centuries of chance and change. At the en- 
trance to the palace are statues of David, by Michel Angelo, 
and Hercules and Cacusby his rival, Baudinelli. The Square 
contains other works by the same artists, and the famous 
fountain, with Neptune and the Tritons. In the portico of 
the Loggia dei Lanzi are Giovanni di Bologna's " Rape of 
the Sabines," Cellini's " Perseus" (bronze), the " Rape of 
Polyxena," a copy of " Ajax with the Body of Patroclus," 
and other statues. 

The portico of the Ufizzi is ornamented with busts of prom- 
inent Tuscans ; among them Dante, Petrarca, Boccaccio, 
Macchiavelli, Cellini, da Yinci, Amerigo Vespucci (he un- 
justly gave his name to our country), Michel Angelo, Galileo, 
Giotto, Donatello, and others — certainly a very creditable 
array of names. 

The houses of Galileo, Vespucci, Guicciardini, and Bianca 
Capello, the beautiful mistress and wife of Francesco de' Me- 
dici, whose life was so full of romance, are frequently visited 
by tourists. Bianca's home was the most interesting to me, 
for with all her weakness she must have been supremely at- 
tractive. 

I used to go to the Cascine to dine every day, and, seated 
in the open air beside the Arno, in full view of the Apen- 
nines and the surrounding hills, covered with villas and old mon- 
asteries, if I had had only a bit of bread and a flask of wine, 
it would have been more than a banquet within walls. There 
were always wandering musicians in the park. They came to 
play for me while I ate — and I found Bellini and Mozart, 
with the soft sky and the mountains, the best sauce in the 
world for the viands the bottega brought me. 



SUBURBS OF FLORENCE. 



461 



A cutlet dipped in the dreamy air of Tuscany, a soup sea- 
soned with a delicious duet of Verdi, an ice crowned with the 
curve ot a distant mountain, is refreshment and nourishment 
to the mind no less than the body. I shall long remember 
that more than Apician dining on the Arno, for I have fes- 
tooned it with beauty, and hung it in one of the fairest cham- 
bers of my memory. 

Fiesole is one of the suburbs of Florence most frequently 
visited. It is on the summit of a high hill, very picturesque, 
and gives a splendid view. Once a monastery and a church 
were there, the latter containing monuments of the noted 
families of the time. Fiesole is an Etruscan town, so old no 
one can ever guess its age. Most of its ancient ruins have 
been destroyed or are occupied by convents and monasteries, 
which very natm-ally arise on the sites and remains of Pagan 
temples and monuments. Near Fiesole are many handsome 
villas, with highly cultivated-grounds. In one of them, be- 
longing to the Grand Ducal family, Boccaccio assumed that 
the stories of the Decameron were told by a company of 
ladies and gentlemen to distract their mind from the fearful 
ravages of the plague. 

Florence is growing rapidly, and becoming very French in 
character. Indeed, it seems like a little Paris, though ne- 
cessarily inferior to the great capital in elegance and luxury. 
Its population, about 130,000 to 140,000, is annually adding 
to its cosmopolitan character. Its climate is not desirable, 
but still it is one of the favorite capitals of pleasure-seekers, 
who are quite resigned to being chilled to the marrow in the 
winter, and stung to madness by the mosquitoes during the 
autumn ; for they know, however they suffer, that they are in 
Florence the Beautiful. 

I have come to the conclusion that the Italians are the 
greatest chatter-boxes on the planet. They can talk more on 
smaller provocation than any people I have known. The French 
have the reputation of great babblers, but they can't begin to 
rival the subjects of Victor Emanuel. The most ignorant of 
them gabble about a bit of garlic or a bean as if the destiny 
of the universe depended on that particular vegetable. 



4g2 A NATION OF BABBLERS. 

They must hold the religious belief that they can talk away 
their sins ; and so they tire their tongues in this world for 
hope of pardon in the next. I am afraid, if I had the par- 
doning power, I should be less lenient with the perpetual 
babblers than they would like. I am fond of the liquid sweet- 
ness of the Italian — though you don't hear much Tuscan in the 
country — but its endless continuance is wearying. I have fre- 
quently gone to bed with a lot of Italians jabbering under my 
window, and when I awoke in the morning, they were at it 
still. I don't know if it was the same individuals, but it was 
the same people. 

You remember the once popular play of the " Dumb Girl 
of Genoa." I am confident that the man who wrote it never 
was in Italy. There are no dumb persons in Genoa, or any 
other Italian city. An Italian cannot be dumb, and I have 
sometimes regretted that certain Americans I wot of were 
not deaf. It would not be so bad if the Italians spoke the 
language Dante, or Tasso, or Petrarch wrote, or anything like 
it ; but they have a jargan no scholar can comprehend. Ari- 
osto and Alfieri would be as much at loss to fathom the mean- 
ing of the words poured out in that country as an ancient 
Athenian would be to understand a modern professor's Greek 
harangue. In Piedmont, Lombardy, Tuscany, and Romagna 
— even in Bologna, so famous once for its learning and cul- 
ture — they have a dialect of the most extraordinary kind. It 
is not like any other language on earth or under it. Mezzo- 
fante, if he were alive, could not tell on a wager what the 
strange medley is all about. It is all folly to tell travelers they 
should speak Italian when they visit Florence or Naples ; the 
better they speak it the worse they are off. What they need 
most is capacity to swear roundly in English and to carry a 
full purse. , With these accomplishments they can go any- 
where between the Mediterranean and Adriatic, and get 
along very comfortably. 

The common people are very poor linguists ; but to make 
up for the defect they claim to speak every language. Ask a 
hack-driver or waiter, or porter, if he knows Hebrew. Chal- 



FL UENCT IN LA NG UA GES. 463 

daic or Choctaw, and he will reply in the affirmative ; and 
yet the only thing you can ring out of him is his barbarous 
patois. I tested the question one day by making the inquiry 
in six tongues, and each time the camiere declared " Si, Sig- 
nore^'' with an emphasis that amounted to an affidavit. Then 
their French is worse than their Italian, which would seem 
impossible. I was afraid when I got home I should have my 
ideas of language so confused that I couldn't render myself 
intelligible in my native tongue. Perhaps I don't. 

I have hardly encountered an Italian in his native land 
who spoke English. One of those who spoke it, after a fash- 
ion, was a landlord at Genoa, and he talked perpetually. He 
never saw me but he began to gabble — proud, no doubt, of 
his accomplishment — and went on until I informed him con- 
fidentially that I was a Russian, and that beyond a few stock 
phrases I knew nothing of English. He then told me he 
thought he had discovered a Russian accent in my speech, 
and hoped I would lose no time in acquiring a language that 
was so " magnifico bucheeful." 

Wasn't that carrying impudence and patronage to some- 
thing like extremes ? 





CHAPTER LIX. 

ROME. 

jY observations and experiences in Rome were 
before the Pope was deprived of his temporal 
power, and before that city became the capital 

of Italy. So I shall speak of it as it was then. 
In Rome notliing moves but the priests and 

the monks. It is a species of living grave, the 

catacomb of classicism, the stronghold of the 
Catholic Church. Independent of theology, an- 
tiquities, and art, the city has little interest or beauty. One 
wearies of it in a day, and is bound to it in a month. - The 
charm of the place, to a man of my temperament, is that the 
people are not demoralized by the spirit of work. Labor is 
an inconsistency and an impertinence there. Unless you are 
an artist, or an ecclesiastic, or a tourist, there is nothing to 
be done. 

Rome has no commerce, and wants none. The spirit of 
the Papal States is stagnation and prayer. If you are a de- 
vout Catholic, say your beads, believe in all miracles, past, 
present, and to come, and your soul will be secure and your 
mind at rest. Concern not yourself about this world. Do 
not fret. You are in the best of keeping. Chapels and cre- 
dos will send you direct to Heaven, when this pleasant wine- 
drinking and daily lounging, known as life, is at an end. The 
skies are soft ; the soil is rich ; graves are cheap. Nature 
and the Church will provide for you. Be at peace with your- 
self and mankind. The angelus is sounding. All sins may 
be forgiven ; all virtue is in faith. Bend the knee, and re- 



REVERIES ON THE PAST. 465 

sign yourself to ecclesiastic keeping, that your dream of relig- 
ion may not be disturbed. 

To a heretic that is what the daily life of Rome, secular 
and spiritual, seems to say. I hear it in the monotonous ap- 
peal of the beggars, in the discordant cry of the hawkers, in 
the peal of the campanili, in the chatter of the rambling 
monks. 

Existence on the Tiber, is a simulacrum of being. I wander 
about there with imagination and memory, and walk back 
through the centuries as through the excavations o^ the Pal- 
ace of the Caesars and the crypts of the Mamertine Prison. 
The Vatican, the Capitol, and the Villa Albani draw my 
breath into their storied marbles, until they live again, and 
I flit around them like a pale ghost. 

Romulus, Nerva, Tarquin, Pompey, Caesar, Tiberius, Nero, 
are no longer dead. I feel their presence on every hand, and 
the Gods of Olympus are restored. Jove, the divine autocrat, 
once more thunders and controls. Mars, the clamorous bully, 
bellows over the dreary campagna. Bacchus, the rowdy 
deity, crushes the purple grape until it flushes his laughing 
face. Venus, the enchanting hussy, is delightfully disloyal, 
and makes her disloyalty poetical. Minerva, the blue stock- 
ing of the skies, frowns upon all flirtations ; and Juno, the 
jealous wife of two thousand years ago, is wretched for the 
inconstancy of her erratic lord. 

I see the symbols of Paganism and Christianity — the mar- 
ble ApoUos and the painted Christs — confronting each other 
in every gallery, and Paganism appears to have the right of 
reigning there. The ruins of Rome assert themselves in op- 
position to the sentimental teachers of the modern faith, and 
every arch and every column cries out against the invader of 
the ancient creed. 

Though no archeologist, I love to linger in the shadows the 
dead centuries have cast, and forget for the time the practical 
spirit of the nineteenth century. The Temple of Peace, the 
Arch of Septimus Severus, the Baths of Diocletian, the Via 
Appia, with its sumptuous tombs, woo me every day. In the 



466 THE CENCl PALACE. 

whispering wind is the soft voice of Egeria, and the strange 
confession of Sabina ; in the yellow Tiber the history of Nerva 
and Augustus is mirrored ; in th^ Alban and Sabine hills all 
the past mingles with their blue haze, and converts thought 
into a vision of departed ages. 

The Cenci Palace, so famous in history, and so indissolubly 
associated with the tragic death of Beatrice, about which a 
hundred stories have been written — looks gloomy enough near 
the dirty and dismal quarter known as the Ghetto. I have 
passed it a number of times, and have always stopped before 
it as if the passing breeze might whisper some of its terrible 
secrets. The Palace is a large and dreary pile of architecture, 
and was for many years deserted. The doors and windows 
were carried off, and only bats and lizards were its occupants. 
The Government is said to have purchased it recently ; but 
it still resembles a miserable tenement house, clothes hang- 
ing out of the windows to dry, and filth being the outward 
sign of its inhabitation. The building is thought by many of 
the superstitious Italians to be haunted, and consequently 
none but persons pressed by poverty will live in it. It seems, 
indeed, as if it might be accursed, so dismal and dreary are 
its massive proportions. Reports are current that terrible 
shrieks are heard in the night, and that a figure in white, 
with blood upon its garments, is seen in the spacious corridor. 
That is thought to be Beatrice, whose spirit cannot rest. The 
palace has been blessed by the Pope again and again ; but 
still these ignorant people deem it accursed. 

The story of the Cencj is most revolting ; but I think I 
never quite understood it until I saw Rome. The father of 
Beatrice, Count Francesco, seems to have been a most de- 
praved wretch of the Alexander VI. pattern, and like that 
notorious Pope, a creature of unbridled lust. His daughter, 
who was as pure and lovely as her parent was monstrous, had 
the misfortune to inspire him with an incestuous passion. 
She begged to be spared, but he forced her to obey his will, 
until at last, mad with her degradation, and revolting at her 
.compulsory sin, she conspired with her brother to have her 



TROUBLE WITH TEE SAIXTS. 



467 



father assassinated. He was murdered, and she was arrested 
and arraigned for trial. The crime was not proved upon her ; 
but she was condemned and executed, the Pope, who had 
been the friend of the Count, refusing to show the poor girl 
mercy. Every one loved her ; her death was universally 
mourned, and the Pope execrated for his inhumanity, for 
which he is said to have had secret reasons, never yet known. 
Guido's picture is known everywhere through the number- 
less copies. The original is in the Barberini Palace ; but I 
cannot think it faithfiil, though the artist is said to have 
painted it the night before her execution. The face is sweet 
but insipid, more resembling that of a child than a mature, 
intense woman of character, as Beatrice unquestionably was. 
I have often wondered how many saints there are. I tried 
to count them when a little boy, but the enumeration table 
ran out, and as they have made many more saints and no 
more figures, I have not tried it since. I once thought I 
should like to be a saint myself; but my evangelical educa- 
tion was neglected, and I failed in my ambition. I don't 
mourn much, however ; there are too many canonized crea- 
tures to suit me. If there were only two or three million, I 
shouldn't care ; but who wants his sinfulness swallowed up in 
so much saintliness ? I have been told that all the Conti- 
nental directories are used for 
saint-making, but I am confident 
the story is not true, as the di- 
rectories have not names enough. 
It is necessary to know a vast 
deal about the saints in Italy to 
understand the pictures — and I 
have found my knowlenge inade- 
quate. I undertook to read the 
" Lives of the Saints," but I 
became financially embarrassed 
before I could pay the trans- 
portation on the books which a 
friend with a huge library had 




LIVE SAINT. 



been kind enoudi to lend me. 



463 AN IMPOSING CEREMONY 

My daily round of churches prompted me to believe they 
did not lead very happy lives, unless being broiled on grid- 
irons, shot full of arrows, and torn to pieces by wild animals 
constitute happiness. Perhaps it did in their day ; but now 
the idea of pleasure is somewhat changed. 

The authorized accounts say the saints died singing hymns ; 
that they were delighted with their martyrdom, and wouldn't 
have had things otherwise if they could. Probably they were 
more contented with their death than their life. I should 
be, if part of my experience consisted in being stewed, boiled, 
and fricasseed, every morning before breakfast. 

The Church at Rome during the summer has as many theo- 
logic theatricals and sacerdotal mummeries (and they consti- 
tute one of the principal attractions of Rome) as it has during 
the winter and the early spring. And the summer spectacles, 
I am informed by the cognoscenti of the Church, are as curi- 
ous and certainly as interesting as the shows of Holy Week 
and Christmas time. 

These priestly pomps have never had the smallest charm 
for me — in fact, they rarely have much for any heretics save 
feminine ones ; and yet, when some new kind of monkish dis- 
play is announced, I go and look at it, to see if it can possibly 
be more ridiculous than the last one I may have witnessed. 

On a certain Sunday it was made known to me that the 
remains of St. Francesca the Roman (if I err in the name, 
any other nf the million or two of saints will answer as well) 
were to be removed from the Monastery of Tor de Specchi to 
the church bearing the title of the saint. It seems that some 
years ago one of the daughters of the Palavicini family left a 
large sum to build a new church for St. Frances ; and, as the 
sacred remains were interred there, it became necessary to 
remove them to the monastery. The church being finished, 
poor St. Frances was to be carried back in grand procession, 
and to be buried once more, until her canonized dust was re- 
quired again for a public show. I was told that this was to 
be one of the most imposing processions the city had seen for 
years, and its prominent feature the walking on foot of the 
noblgst ladies of Rome, draped in sables, and bearing torches. 



THE PROCESSION. 



469 



The time named for the procession was six in the evening. 
I was in the Campo Vaccine an hour before ; but, as the car- 
riage was comfortable, the weather delightful, and my com- 
panions agreeable, I bore the martyrdom of waiting with due 
resignation. About seven some of the Cardinals' carriages 
drove up with tiieir, flaring, gilt and crimson trappings, and 
the venerable prelates were handed out with exceeding cere- 
mony. Then came monks of half a dozen orders, all looking 
equally devout and dirty ; then priests, in white surplices, 
bearing candles and chanting hymns ; then youthful choris- 
ters, singing in shrill voices ; then the Swiss Guard, whose 
uniform Michel Angelo designed from a study of the middle 
ages, and made supremely grotesque ; then the Papal Zouaves, 
well-dressed and indolent, with crucifixes. Madonnas and 
baldachini mingled here and there ; and then the body of the 
saint in a palanquin, carried on the shoulders of four anointed 
priests. I say the body, because I suppose the mummy-like 
figure I saw, with clasped hands and hideous grinning head, 
was intended to represent the mortal remains of what had 
once been the honored devotee. It may have been an effigy 

only, or it may 
^~'"r^T -r-^ . have been (to 

the devout 
Catholic 
mind) the 
breathing 
saint, restor- 
ed to life for 
that particu- 
lar occasion 
by one of the 
every- day 
miracles for 
which the 
Roman 
Church is 
famous, 
the Continent 




A DEAD SAINT. 



I never can determine when traveling on 



470 PROCESSION OF NOBLE WOMEN. 

what I am expected to see or believe in tlie way of ecclesiastic 
marvels. The Church has such illimitable power to subvert 
the laws of Nature and obtain special interventions of Heaven 
that I may have beheld wonders unconsciously. In describ- 
ing any ceremony, therefore, I hesitate to say what I have 
seen until I learn by canonical authority what has happened 
that the outward eye of the heretic cannot perceive. I have 
doubted through my mere reason many things I have read of 
in this country as actual occurrences ; and yet they are sup- 
ported by such a weight of sacerdotal authority that I must 
either believe or be discarded from the faithful. 

But to return. After the body, living or dead, of the saint, 
followed about forty women, robed in black, with long black 
veils over their heads, and carrying tapers. These were the 
feminine representatives of the best families of Rome — the 
Dorias, the Palavicinis, the Borgheses, and Barberinis ; and 
their profound humility in walking, when they might have rid- 
den, and in keeping company with common Christians, so un- 
like themselves, was greatly admired and created a sensation 
among the plebeian Romans who had crowded together to see 
the spectacle. The surroundings of these women set them 
off to advantage — any woman with a possibility of comeliness 
would have looked well, under the circumstances. Many of 
the noblesse looked and were handsome, with their large, 
lustrous eyes, their dark hair, their rich olive complexions, 
and their warm, graceful mouths. It would have been strange 
indeed if the generations of ease and luxury behind them and 
their opportunities for culture and elegance had -not resulted 
to their esthetic advantage. The fair women marched slowly 
on, amid the chant, the music of the accompanying bands, 
the tolling of the bells, the comments of the throng; and be- 
hind them more gilded coaches of church and state, and the 
pageant was at an end. Up the steps of the church the pro- 
cession moved, and its varied colors and waving torches lent 
a certain degree of picturesqueness to the gathering dusk that 
even the meaninglessness of the occasion could not destroy. 

As I sat in the carriage, in the deliciously soft air, the bells 



MARBLE mm CENTS. 471 

making the evening mournful, watching the pretentious pa- 
geant that seemed to me so empty, and the Roman crowd of 
grown-up children, who were so delighted with the spectacle, 
and as I glanced at the Temple of Peace before and the Co- 
liseum behind me, I could not help thinking how fitting it is 
that the center of the Catholic Church should be where the 
seat of the old paganism was, where the sweetest air of the 
Campagna is loaded with the breath of pestilence, and where 
for centuries art and superstition have been cherished, and so 
interwoven that we are almost forced to admire one through 
the other. 

I watched the procession as it lingered on the portico of 
the church ; I looked again and again at the ancient ruins ; 
I observed the awe-inspired faces of the Italian crowd ; 1 
glanced at the solemn mummery of the pageant ; and, with 
the memory of old and new Rome, the heathen empire and 
the Papal States, I rejoiced, after all, that I was a heretic, and 
that there was no danger of my canonization. 

The Vatican, Capitol, and Villa Albani, are rich in marbles, 
and I admire them. I should admire them more if they had 
been more favored with arms and ears and, chins and noses. 
One would imagine the statues had been saints from their 
treatment. Tliey have been very roughly handled, and very 
unjustly. I don't think that to be a statue is such a sin as to 
require maiming and even decapitation. The old fellows in 
marble lead very blameless lives. They don't swear or get 
drunk. They don't borrow your money ; they don't write for 
the newspapers, or even run for Congress. They might be 
a little cleaner, but they are adopted Italians, and it is not 
the custom of the country to wash. 

How were the figures deprived of so much of their original 
selves ? From their severe habits of reflection they must have 
got lost in thought, and many of their members been unable 
fo find their way back. Possibly in the antique days the men 
and women were choleric, and in their quarrels pulled each 
other's noses until they pulled them off, and bit off ears, too. 
For their armless condition I can only account by the suppo- 



472 



INCOMPLETE STATUES ACCOUNTED FOR. 



sition that, being distinguished characters, and contemplating 
a visit to America, they removed their arms, either because 
they believed it unlawful to bear arms in this country, or be- 
cause they were aware of tlie national custom of hand-shaking, 
and wished to provide themselves against it. 

Who made all these statues, and how they were made, has 
long been a question. Sculpture, after the manner of the an- 
cients, is a lost art. I have a theory on the subject. The 
marble-cutters did their work separately. One made arms, 
one legs, one noses, another ears, and so on. The fellows 
who did the small work were far lazier than those who carved 
the larger parts, like thighs, heads, and trunks. The conse- 
quence was noses, ears, fingers, and chins were short, and the 
proper supply could not be obtained. This accounts for the 
appearance of the statues. They are not broken ; they are 
simply incomplete. Modern artists have done their best to 
supply the defect, and in due season they will succeed. The 
Venuses and Cupids and 
Psyches are being restored, 
and will soon be presenta- 
ble. 

One of the finest mar- 
bles in the Vatican is the 
torso of Hercules. I like 
it, but my liking would be 
increased if there were 
more of it. A breast and 
abdomen, with an abbre- 
viated pair of thighs, may 
be sufficient for art, but 
would be found very in- 
convenient in nature. I am acquainted with persons who 
would not be half so enthusiastic about the famous marble if 
it were entire. 

In the Vatican are the world-famous Laccoon and the 
Apollo. The former is a masterpiece of sculptured expres- 
sion, and the latter indeed an ideal in marble. I should 




THE VATICAN. 



OLD PAINTINGS. 473 

never tire of looking at the carved god; should never be quite 
persuaded he would not reveal to me the mysterious blisses 
of Olympus. 

A statue I shall not forget is the Venus of the Capitol. She 
is in a reserved cabinet, but becomes visible for a paul or two 
given to the custode. I don't know why she is shut up, for 
she is assuredly undressed enough to appear in society. 

The Capitoline Venus looks as if she were a trifle unhappy ; 
but whether it is because she can't talk, or because she has 
no man to buy clothes for her, I have not determined. Poor, 
dear girl, it is tpo bad that she should be shut up there all 
day and all night, with no one to tell her how charming 
she is. 

The popular belief is that Rome, and, indeed, all Italy, is 
full of fine pictures. Good paintings, however, are very scarce 
everywhere. The old masters seemed inspired, sometimes, 
and at others did very inferior work. Because a painting is 
by Raffaele or Domenichino, Tiziano or Correggio, Guido or 
Murrillo it does not follow it is excellent. Any such paint- 
ings will bring a fabulous price on account of the reputation 
of the artist, which merely proves want of taste on the part 
of those who claim to be coUnoisseurs. 

Raffaelle, the prince of painters, frequently bailed, in my 
judgment, both with his pencil and his brush. Some of his 
Virgins, immortal though they are called, have little merit. 
Not one of them is more than a decidedly pretty woman. 
They lack spirituality, strength, and depth of tone ; and even 
the Madonna da Foligno, regarded as one of the greatest 
paintings known, has numerous defects. 

Sassoferrato's "Virgin and Child," in the Vatican, though 
it has little reputation, looks more divine than any similar 
picture in the collection. Perugino, Raffaelle's master, and 
famed from sea to sea, never did any work I should care to 
have. His figures are thin and flat, and remind me of deco- 
rations on tea chests. 

Raffaelle's "Transfiguration," Domenichino's "Commun- 
ion of St. Jerome," and a few other pictures in the Vatican 
are. as e;enerations have agreed, marvels of art. 



474 



SPLENDID TEMPLES. 



^1 



The churches of Rome are said to be over three hundred 
in number, and yet the population of the city is less than two 
hundred thousand. Service is not held at all in some of the 
churches, and in none is the attendance large ordinarily. At 
St. Paul's, the fourth largest church in the world, there is no 
mass save on special occasions. The building is beyond the 
walls in a very unhealthy position, and is visited during the 
summer only by tourists. It is very rich in marbles, and is 
reputed to have cost over thirty millions of dollars. The 
Roman churches must be worth, or at least the sum expended 
on them, must have been hundreds of millions. What an 
incalculable amount of good might be done with such a sum ! 

Though almost everybody is disappointed in St. Peter's at 
first, it so grows upon you, as you examine it at leisure, and 
regard it comparatively, that you soon feel its vastness, and 
are impressed by its grandeur. If Angelo's plan had been 
carried out, the Church would have been an architectural 
glory. To tell any one, as the guides do, that it is 613 feet 
long, the nave 152 feet high, the length of the transepts 445 
feet, and the height of the 
cross 405, or, as some in- 
sist, 448 feet, gives you no 
idea of its proportions. You 
get them best by mounting 
to the lantern. 

In the portico of the 
Pantheon I flattered my- 
self I had discovered some 
defect after devoting sev- 
eral hours to it from a fan- -^^^ 
cied favorable point of 
view ; but I afterward had 
the mortification to see the fault was in my position. The 
fact that Raffaelle is buried in the ancient temple draws many 
strangers to it. When the deforming belfries are torn 
down, the fa9ade of the Pantheon can hardly be improved. 
The first time I went to Rome I hurried on to the Coli- 




ST. PETER S AT ROME. 



THE POPE'S APPEARANCE. 



475 



seum as if, after staying on the same spot for nearly two 
thousand years, it would disappear before I got there. Vast 
as it is, I have never been able to understand how it could 
have seated, as has been claimed, 87,000 spectators. The 
story is about as truthful, I suspect, as the one which says 
that when Titus died 5,000 wild beasts and 10,000 cap- 
tives were slain. The ancient amphitheater should be 
visited at moonlight to be seen to the best advantage. Then 
the imagination has play, and the night helps the classic as- 
sociations wonderfully. The traditions of the martyrdom of 
the early Christians are absurdly exaggerated. Instead of 
thousands, competent authorities declare less than one hund- 
red perished in the arena. The Catholic Church, however, 
has always been only too willing to help its cause with pious 
frauds of a very transparent sort. 

When I was last in Rome Pio Nono was seriously disliked 
out of the Papal States — not as an individual, but as a tem- 
poral prince. Then his spiritual authority was on the wane 
with the Italians, who are growing skeptical, and complain 
that the gates of the Roman Heaven open too often at the 
clinking of gold. The theological change in Italy during the 
past ten years is very remarkable. Implicit faith and blind 
submission is no longer received by the people. They have 
begun to reason, and the vast Vatican dwindles before logic. 

The Pope himself is an 
amiable, pleasing, well-bred 
gentleman, who is said to 
be much more liberal than 
his Cardinals, but has not 
the courage to do what they 
oppose. In Rome every 
one likes him, for he makes 
a study of manners, and is 
anxious to conciliate all 
who approach him. He 
closely resembles his por- 
traits. He is a fleshy, 
white-haired, round-faced, 




POPE BLESSINO THE POPULACE. 



476 ABSURD INCONSISTENCIES. 

dark-eyed old man, with an expression of humor that often 
flashes out in conversation, and contributes much to his sleek 
and well-fed appearance. He is extremely earnest and zeal- 
ous in and for his creed, and conscientiously helieves the sole 
salvation of the world is through the universal establishment 
of his prosletyzing Church. 

Pio looks forward, I understand, with great hope to Amer- 
ica as the land wliere Romanism will have its widest diffu- 
sion, and where the sanctuary of St. Peter will be most se- 
cure. For a man not very strong, naturally amiable, and 
fond of peace, the Pope has had a stormy and unwelcome 
reign. 

The religious authorities were very broad about some 
things and very squeamish in others. They made no objec- 
tion to the most seductive Sunday evening ballet. The bal- 
lerine don't dance very well, but they have excellent figures, 
The Roman girls have very good eyes, and when their faces 
are lighted up with excitement they look temptingly wicked. 
Their gestures and poses are highly objectionable ; and yet 
they are admitted and applauded by the best women in Rome, 
who would be shocked at the smallest immodesty off" the 
stage. The ballet is the favorite amusement of the Romans, 
and superior to their opera. 

The pope makes strange regulations respecting the opera. 
For instance, he has interdicted the use of the 
words " cross" and " Devil," and neither one nor 
the other is introduced on the stage orally or in 
semblance. In " Faust" Mephistopheles appears 
as an apothecary, aud his speeches are altered very 
grotesquely. The opera of " Lucrezia Borgia" can- 
not be represented under that title, because her 
father, Alexander YI., happened to be an occu- 
pant of the pontificial chair. Her name is 
changed to Luisa di Lucca, and as such she poi- 
pope's hat. yQj^g and murders to her heart's content, without 
causing scandal to the Church. Alexander is generally be- 
lieved to have been one of the greatest villains of his time. 




THE HOMES OF THE DEAD. 



All 



and villians were abundant in those days ; but any one who 
deems the Borgia infamous should read his life, as given ec- 
clesiastically, to ascertain what a precious saint he was. 

The Catacombs I went into and found they amounted to 
very little. They are all without the walls, sixty in number, 
and contain over sixty millions of bodies. From St. Sebas- 
tian nearly all the bones have been removed ; but the others 
abound in tombs and skeletons. The Catacombs have been 
but partially explored. When they are fully, relics enough 
will be found for a thousand new clmrches. The Catacombs 
are only holes in the ground, with various ramifications^ 
chambers, and galleries, in which a man could lose himself 
without difficulty. Loculi or graves were dug in the walls of 
tufa, and bodies of all sizes deposited there, one above the 
other. The Catacombs furnished a very good place for sepul- 
ture, and might still be used to advantage. The walls have 
numerous inscriptions of a religious character, crude and 
often unintelligible, scratched in the tufa by friends of the de- 
ceased. These burial places are probably eighteen hundred 
years old, and were for centuries the public cemeteries, inter- 
ment within the walls being forbidden. A number of martyrs 
and early Popes were deposited there, making the Catacombs 
objects of special interest and religious devotion to the early 
Christians. Various chapels were erected, and remain there 
still. It is supposed the Christians concealed themselves in 
the Catacombs during their persecution. Hawthorne, in his 
" Marble Faun," gives them new interest by making them 
the theater of some of his most impressive scenes. 

When I entered St. Sebastian one day, with a monk as 
guide, both of us carrying lighted tapers, the place presented 
few inducements for residence of a permanent character, un- 
less one should happen to have his breath permanently 
stopped. Then it would make very little diflference. 



CHAPTER LIV. 



NAPLES. 




T is common to say that Naples is not Italy, 
and the Neapolitans not Italians. They seem to 
me Italians intensified, reproducing all the pecu- 
liarities of their nation. The Neapolitans boast of 
the Toledo as one of the finest streets on the Con- 
tinent; but there is very little of it. It is not more 
than a mile and a quarter long, rather narrow, and 
made to appear narrower by the height of the houses. Few 
of the buildings are either handsome or imposing, and clean- 
liness is often sought in vain. Many of the shops make elab- 
orate displays, and, after dark, lend a certain brilliancy to 
the street. 

The Toledo is the favorite promenade, and, Sunday morn- 
ing, and from sunset to 9 o'clock, any day, it is full of ele- 
gantly-dressed men and women and handsome turnouts. The 
carriages there, as throughout Italy, are open, and give a full 
view of the riders, producing a much better effect than do our 
close vehicles. Many of the women dispense with hats, and, 
as they have fine hair, very largely their own, they are 
improved by their bonnetless condition. In no city in Italy 
does one see anything like the number of carriages he sees in 
Naples. Their rolling, with their merry occupants, in one 
continuous line, along the Chiaja, the Toledo, and about the 
bay, lends a semblance of gayety to Naples that reminds one 
of Paris or Vienna. 

Naples is, unquestionably, the most lively city in Italy, and 
much the largest. Of late years its population has increased 



NEAP OUT AN JE WELR Y. 479 

SO rapidly, that it is ' )w called eight or nine hundred thou- 
sand, which must be an exaggeration. I presume seven hund- 
red thousand wjDuld be much nearer the truth ; but even this is 
remarkable, for it shows an increase of nearly three hundred 
thousand in ten years. Naples has a large and growing com- 
merce, considerable manufacturing interests, and an excellent 
local trade. 

Its jewelry, especially its corals, is deservedly celebrated, 
and the annual sales are very large. Of course Americans 
are the freest and most generous buyers, and are universally 
regarded as the most desirable patrons. I can conceive what 
a temptation the shops of the Toledo must be to a wife who 
has a full purse and a liberal husband. Gold and coral and 
jewels are there exposed in such fascinating forms that the 
feminine eye must make the extravagant hand. She who 
would not peril her tyrant's bank account while gazing at the 
treasury of pretty things, is indeed a model of prudence. 
Jewelry is not so very cheap as many suppose, though it can 
be bought for about 30 to 40 per cent, less than in the United 
States. 

The Villa Reale is the name given to the public garden 
skirting the western part of the bay, which makes that quarter 
of the town very pleasant. It is handsomely laid out with 
walks, and flower-beds, and fountains. Every evening music 
in the villa by one of the regimental bands, attracts a crowd 
of persons who sit in and before the cafes, drinking, smoking, 
talking, and often flirting to the various airs performed. The 
scene recalls Paris. 

The bay, like everything famous, is, at first, disappointing. 
Still it is beautiful, and you find that its blue symmetry gains 
upon you as you grow acquainted with it. It is difficult to 
get a complete view of the bay from any part of the town ; 
but when you go out upon it, or ascend Vesuvius, or sail off" 
to Ischia or Capri, you behold it in all its picturesqueness. 
The heights of the city, Mount Somma, Vesuvius, the pecu- 
liar bend of the land, Procida, Pozzuoli, and Sorrento, all 
make the bay a pure poem of the sea. It looks like a vast 



480 SAD FATE OF AN ARCHITECT. 

turquoise set in the golden sunshine and crowning the larger 
jewel of the Mediterranean. I tried to feel indifferent to the 
bay ; but it conquered me with its loveliness, and I lay my 
slender garland of admiration at its graceful feet. 

When sailing down to Sorrento in a fisherman's boat one 
day, the dreamy lines of Buchanan Read's poem ran like a 
musical rivulet through my memory. I heard the waves say ; 

With dreamy eyes 

My spirit lies 

Under the walls of Paradise ; 

and so every breeze murmured along and over the enchanting 
water. 

By the by. Read told me in Rome that when he composed 
" Driftings" he had never been in Naples, and that if he had 
been he could not have written the poem, because actual ob- 
servation changed his ideal of the charming bay. It seems 
there are advantages sometimes in describing what you have 
not seen except with the mind's eye. 

Of the eight theatres, of course the renowned San Carlo 
stands at the head. It adjoins the Royal Palace, near the 
Largo del Castello (the Neapolitans use Largo for Piazza) 
and is one of the largest opera houses in Europe. It has six 
tiers of boxes — one hundred and ninety-two in -all — with a 
large parquette, and will hold five thousand persons. It is 
heavily gilded, but looks somewhat dingy, and its interior is 
neither attractive nor striking. 

Charles III. ordered its erection, and its architect, Angelo 
Carasale had a sad death on account of it. He delighted the 
King in constructing it, but, being unable to explain some of 
his accounts satisfactorily, he was thrown into St. Elmo 
where he died after five or six years of confinement. His 
royal master, though he knew the architect to be poor and 
deserving, permitted the poor fellow to perish by inches, never 
interesting himself in the smallest degree in his fate. 

San Carlo has heard the notes of the most famous singers 
of several generations, and a number of renowned operas, 
such as Lucia, Somnambula, Mosd, Giuramento, and others 
were first given within its walls. 



LICENTIOUSNESS OF THE CITY. 481 

Pulchinella, which has its headquarters in the San Carlino, 
is the characteristic amusement of Naples, and is given twice 
a day at some of the theatres. It is merely a species of low 
comedy, a burlesque in the Neapolitan dialect, in which local 
hits, satirical humor and coarse jests are discharged at every- 
body and everything. The people relish the licentious enter- 
tainment greatly, and crowd the houses where Pulchinella is 
the autocrat. I have attended the unique performance, but 
as I do not understand Italian in its supreme impurity, many 
of the jokes were as imperceptible to me as if I had been a 
German. 

The Museo Nazionale is the British Museum of Italy, and 
an excellent collection, where the stranger can spend many 
days with profit. The frescoes and inscriptions from Hercu- 
laneum and Pompeii are interesting to the archaeologist; but 
I have been surfeited with them. The marbles are interesting ; 
but few are remarkable as works of art. The Aristides which 
has been so much praised is probably somebody else, and the 
Psyche, universally extolled for its loveliness, appears insipid. 
The fact that she has lost the top of her head, and her arms, 
also, does not, in my mind, add to her beauty. 

The Venuses, on account of an absurd squeamishness, used 
to be shut up ; but now they are again on exhibition. If they 
were withdrawn because of their bad looks, it was well; but 
no fear need be felt that such ill-formed creatures would pro- 
duce a sinful thought. I don't believe any living woman 
would be so reckless of clothes if she had such a bad. figure 
as those marble divinities. 

The collection of bronze statues, the largest in the world, 
is mainly from the cities buried under Vesuvius. The Etrus- 
can vases are curious, but too numerous to examine. The 
coins, ancient chains, ornaments and weapons, are very valua- 
ble to any one whose time is not so. 

The better class of Neapolitans are very fond of display, and 
the poorest seem ambitious of arranging their dirt and rags 
in fantastic form. The women, as a rule, are extraordinarily 
vain, and to their determination to be admired in some way 



482 SURROUNDINGS OF TEE CITY. 

may be largely asscribed the extreme licentiousness of the 
town, which cannot escape the attention of any one remaining 
there for any length of time. The terraces of the city, and 
the flat roofs of the houses, adorned with shrubs and flowers, 
and serving as promenades, give it a unique and picturesque 
appearance irrespective of its superb situation. Its three 
hundred churches are not sufficient to sober or restrain the 
recklessly giddy and gay people, nor to render any great num- 
ber of them . regardful of the conventional forms of modest 
behavior. For ages it has been the chosen seat of pleasure ; 
it was such when as Parthenope it was more Greek than Ro- 
man, and when Nero selected it as the place for his theatrical 
debut. 

The surroundings of Naples are far more attractive than 
the city. Torrento, the birth place of Tasso, has been called the 
finest spot of earth, and in the autumn or early in May it is 
indeed delightful. The Green and Blue Grottos are curious ; 
Pozzuoli, Baiae, Cumae, and other neighboring localities are 
very interesting from their historic and classic associations, 
and Paestum, with its ruined temples, stimulates memory and 
imagination like Baalbec and Thebes. 

It does not seem generally known that a third city, Stabias, 
was destroyed by the same eruption of Vesuvius (A. D. 79), 
which put an end to Herculaneum and Pompeii. It was at 
Stabise the elder Pliny lost his life, having been sufibcated by 
the sulphurous vapors of the volcano. As he is said to have 
had weak lungs, it is not strange that he perished ; for if I 
had had any pulmonary affection when I went up to the 
crater, I am confident I never should have gone down. 

Stabiae had bad luck. That eminent swash-buckler, 
Sylla, knocked the town to pieces during the civil war, and 
Vesuvius compelled it to put on sack-cloth and ashes many 
years after. Castellammare, the well-known summer resort, 
now stands on the sight of Stabiae, whose excavations, not 
having promised well, were filled up soon after they were 
begun. 

The popular idea that Herculaneum and Pompeii were de- 



POMPEII. 483 

stroyed, with nearly the whole population, is entirely erro- 
neous. Both the cities did not contain, probably, over sixty 
or seventy thousand inhabitants, and out of that number not 
more than two or three hundred lost their lives. All the 
skeletons found have been, I think, less than ninety. Tlie 
gods seem to have been on ill-terms with Pompeii ; for they 
were constantly sending convulsions of nature to destroy it. 
But let me examine my theology. We have it on the best 
authority that Heaven chastise th what it loves. The gods, 
therefore, must have been madly fond of Pompeii, and proved 
their fondness by favoring it with earthquakes, volcanic erup- 
tions, bloody wars, and other blessings is disguise. 

The citizens of Pompeii had just been enjoying one of their 
periodically pleasant earthquakes, and were employed in re- 
building some of the shaken-down houses, when Vesuvius paid 
its respects by overwhelming them with a shower of scoriae, 
ashes, and pununice. They lost their patience at this new 
manifestation of celestial favor — regarding it as rather too 
much of a good thing — and quitted the town in such precipi- 
tate disgust that some of the poor fellows left their skeletons 
behind them. 

It is very remarkable that, though Pompeii was a well- 
known city — Cicero, Claudius, Drusus, and Seneca, having 
lived there — its disappearance was not observed nor its burial- 
place discovered until a little over a century ago. The upper 
wall of the great theatre was never even covered up, and yet 
for seventeen centuries nobody thought of making excava- 
tions. 

The story is that a rustic, in digging a well, discovered a 
painted chamber containing several statues, and that his dis- 
covery first awakened an interest in the Pompeiian sepulture. 
The excavations are still prosecuted, but so very slowly that 
it is believed they will not be finished until some time after 
the Day of Judgment. 

Much has been said of the luxury of the people of Pompeii, 
and some pious souls have thought they were destroyed be- 
cause they were extremely sensual. The Pompeiians could 



484 LIFE OF TEE POMPEIIANS. 

not have been luxurious in the sense in which we understand 
luxury. They had some good statues, mosaics, and frescoes ; 
but their houses were small and generally unattractive. The 
people appear to have lived out of doors almost entirely. Nor 
am I surprised, considering what little and uncomfortable 
rooms they had. Their streets were very narrow and much 
traveled, as the deep wheel-ruts show. 

The wine trade must have been the principal one, for every 
third or fourth shop was kept by a wine merchant. I made 
a calculation one morning while there, and concluded from 
the estimated population and the number of wine shops, that 
each citizen must have drank at least a gallon a day. 

The private dwellings seem to have been divided into two 
parts — public and private. In the former were the open space 
known as the area, the porch, the vestibule, the porter's lodge, 
and the hall where the patricians received their clients. The 
private part of the dwellings contained the open court called 
the peristyle, the dining-room (trichinium), the sitting- 
room, the parlor, the library, the bath, and the bed-chamber. 
The women appear to have been kept apart from the men, 
and their apartments to have been a sort of harem, visited by 
the masculine tyrants only upon especial occasions. The 
roofs of the houses were flat, and so covered with vines and 
flowers as to form a pleasant promenade. 

The Pompeiians appear to have had no stables, no litera- 
ture of consequence, and no poor people, judging from the 
discoveries thus far made. On the whole, they must have 
had a very uncomfortable domestic life ; for the dwellings of 
Sallust and Diomedes, two of the most pretentious, are more 
like tombs than houses. We Americans would not occupy 
such places for any consideration. They must have been 
dark, damp, and in every way disagreeable. I should suppose 
the luxuries of the Romans would have been rheumatism, con- 
sumption, and sciatica, dwelling under such peculiar roofs. 

The people of Pompeii were artistic beyond question, but I 
am afraid their morals were not what they should have been. 
Some of the houses (evidently of a peculiar class) in the un- 



THE AMPBITHEA TRE. 485 

covered city are ornamented externally and internally with 
pictures and symbols that are revoltingly obscene. Many of 
the precious works of art have been removed to the Museo 
Borbonico, now Nazionale, where the curious can see them any 
day. They are singular instances of the extreme coarseness 
lurking behind culture and assumed refinement, and indicate 
that the bestial excesses of Caligula, Commodus, and Galie- 
nus, were very Roman after all. The house of the Vestals, 
in one of the streets, has mosaics and decorations very far 
from vestal in character, and revealing too plainly that the 
purity of the Virgins must have been rather imaginary than 
actual. I am forced to the opinion that while many of the 
Roman Vestals may have had numerous good qualities, chas- 
tity, either of thought or action, was not among them. 

The ' Anaphitheatre, more ancient than the Coliseum at 
Rome, is 430 by 375 feet, and could seat 10,000 persons. It 
had twenty-four rows of seats, each row being occupied by 
persons of different rank. The magistrates and patricians 
were carefully separated from the plebeians. The entrances 
at the end of the arena for the admission of wild beasts and 
gladiators and the removal of the slain are in good preserva- 
tion. It is said, when the gladiators asked if their lives 
might be spared, after they had fought bravely, that the first 
among the spectators who turned down their thumbs — the 
sign of refusal — were the Vestal Virgins. What tender and 
sensitive ladies they must have been ! The amphitheatre was 
crowded — according to some of the historians — when the 
eruption of Vesuvius occurred, and not one of the persons in 
the audience perished, though a large portion might have done 
so without loss to mankind. 

The temples, baths, and theatres, are interesting, and quite 
well preserved. The temples contain the altars of sacrifice, 
some of which look as if they were recently carved. In two 
of the temples, skeletons, unquestionably those of the priests, 
were found with their sacrificial knives in their hands. As 
they were doing, or thought they were doing, the behests of 
the gods, the gods should have provided for their safety. 



486 



HERCULANEUM. 



The stage of the theatres is very small compared to that of 
the modern time. But the antique drama was much simpler 
than ours. It had very few scenes, and they revolved on a 
pivot. From a portion of the tragic theatre a fine panoramic 
view of Pompeii is obtained, which, it must be confessed, 
closely resembles the combination of a great brickyard and 
stone-cutter's establishment on which work had long been 
suspended. 

Herculaneum, you remember, was destroyed by the mud 
which Vesuvius threw out during its eruption. Mud-throwing 
never proves destructive in this country. If it did, half the 
politicians would have been dead long ago. For fifty years 
the excavations amounted to nothing, on account of the stu- 
pidity of the persons who had them in charge ; but of late 
they have resulted in the discovery of some fine statues, now 
in the Museo. Herculaneum is so much less interesting than 
Pompeii that it is not worth describing. Temples, villas, 
tombs, and prisons, have been, and are still being, uncovered. 
Many travelers are surprised to find the cities open to the sky, 
imagining they are buried now, as they were at first, and that 
they must be visited with torches. 

The work of excavation is under the direction of the Gov- 
ernment, which appropriates so much annually. When the 
sum is exhausted the work stops. You pay two lires or francs 
for each admission to Herculaneum or Pompeii, and the 
guides are not allowed to receive any additional fees. You 
can go to either town by rail, and get through with both in 
five or six hours. 





CHAPTER LXI. 

CLIMBING VESUVIUS. 

_ one thinks of Naples without Vesuvius, which 
in all pictures of the city is represented as tow- 
ering above everything else on one side of the 
crescent-shaped bay. Sending forth perpetual 
smoke from its peak, it resembles a great torch 
burning over the town, which rests quietly in the 
narrow valley below. One of the first things to 
do, after reaching Naples, is to make the ascent 
of Vesuvius, much more interesting since the great eruption 
of 1867 than it was before. You can go up from the Pom- 
peian side, as it is called, or from the opposite side, there 
being little to choose between the two. The railway will 
carry you to either of the starting points, whence you can 
ride or walk to the base of the volcano. 

Being at Pompeii, my only difiiculty was to determine 
which one of the many guides I should select to accompany 
me. 

There is probably no place in the world where a traveler or 
stranger is more annoyed by guides, hackmen, and all sorts 
of runners and agents, than in and about Naples. If you stop 
for a moment in the Toledo, or any other principal street, you 
are at once surrounded by them. You cannot make the small- 
est purchase or the most trijfling engagement with less than 
six or eight of the tribe. Anybody's business is everybody's 
business there ; and self-elected agents, assistants, and go- 
betweens are as numerous as fleas or garlic odors. 

So it was in making an arrangement with a guide for Ve- 



488 A COURAGEOUS DONKEY. 

suvius. From three to twelve ragged men and boys persisted 
in acting for the fellow who had first proposed to be my con- 
ductor. They gesticulated and jabbered in wretched Italian, 
and thrust themselves between me and the guide. I flour- 
ished a cane, and roared out a few phrases in German, which 
they, not understanding, fancied to be terrible threats, and 
hurriedly retreated. At last I secured a donkey, and made 
a contract with the guide to go with me to the top of the vol- 
cano for twenty-five francs (five dollars in our money), though 
I had no idea I should get off with that amount; and I did 
not with twice as much. 

My beast had been recommended as very safe, and he cer- 
tainly was safe as respects slowness and laziness. A braver 
donkey never lived : he would have died rather than run under 
any circumstances. But he and I and the guide finally 
reached the base of the mountain, where I fancied, from the 
ascent, I should be unable to urge my animal forward. There 
we encountered a new lot of ragged fellows offering their ser- 
vices to carry me, and the donkey, too, on their shoulders, 
and to do everything but leave me alone. 

The first half of the way up the volcano rises gradually, and 
is easily managed by a horse or mule, — even such an one as 
mine was. The native loafers, as we should call them here, 
were bent, however, on assisting my beast, since they could 
not aid me. To this end, they seized him by the tail ; kept 
twisting it, and screaming and yelling at the poor creature 
until I felt confident he would be frightened into something 
like speed. But his courage was unflinching ; he crept along 
with all the calmness of a snail. I tried in vain to get rid of 
the pursuing rabble by shouting at them, and " cutting be- 
hind," as the boys call it, with my cane. They held their 
purpose and the tail, however, until I informed them that I 
would not give them a carlino for their trouble. That had 
the desired efiect. They at once fell into silence, and dropped 
behind. 

In about half an hour my companion (^also an American), 
the guide and myself had arrived at the spot where, in con- 



ASCENT UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 489 

sequence of the steep and sudden ascent, it became necessary 
to dismount. Judge of my surprise, to find there at least a 
dozen of the same troublesome class I had gotten rid of at the 
base of the mountain, as I had fondly hoped for that day at 
least. These urgent Italians had poles with leather straps 
attached, and wooden chairs or litters, with which they are 
in the habit of aiding or carrying persons to the top, who 
are either too weak or too indolent to climb up themselves. 
I resolutely declined their assistance, and my companion did 
also, though our guide declared we might need a helping 
hand before we reached the summit. 

We set out, and half a dozen of the beggarly crew followed, 
constantly offering their services, and stretching out their 
arms to catch us in the event of our slipping or falling. 

The walking was certainly very bad. The sides of the vol- 
cano were covered with ashes and powdered fragments of 
lava, called scorise, so that our feet slipped every step we 
took, and sank in the half stony, half metallic rubbish several 
inches above our ankles, and sometimes nearly to our knees. 
These obstructions, added to the steepness, made the climb- 
ing very hard and tiresome. The afternoon was quite warm, 
too — it was at the close of May — and the active exercise soon 
bathed me in perspiration. To increase the unpleasantness, 
a storm gathered, and, though only a few drops of rain fell, a 
high wind blew the ashes and scoriae into my face, almost 
blinding me, and making my skin smart as if it had been 
pricked with needles. 

The mountain had not seemed high from the foot ; and I 
had wondered why persons had complained of fatigue in going 
up. I discovered for myself that the task was not so easy as 
it looked, especially as I went back at least one step for every 
two I took forward. Each time I slipped, the fellows who 
kept close behind made an effort to catch hold of me, and 
begged for permission to aid me in the ascent. I still obsti- 
nately refused ; but my companion had become so exhausted 
that he gladly resigned himself to their care. One of the 
Italians having fastened the leather straps of a pole about his 



490 XEW FLA VORING FOR EGGS. 

neck, the tired American — I will call him Alexander — caught 
hold of the pole with both hands. A second Italian went be- 
fore the first, who held to a leather strap around the other's 
waist, and a third got behind Alexander, and pushed him. I 
could not help laughing at this strange way of climbing — 
three men employed in dragging and forcing up one. Alex- 
ander looked as if it were a serious matter with him. He 
breathed heavily, and the perspiration streamed from his face, 
which was red and white by turns. Every two or three min- 
utes he would stop to rest, and say to me, " This is the hard- 
est job I ever undertook. I don't know that I shall ever get 
up ; but I am bound to do my best in trying." 

The further we went, the steeper the mountain grew, and 
the thicker the ashes and scoriae became. I knew Vesuvius 
was not quite four thousand feet high ; but it appeared at 
least twenty thousand before I got to the summit. The wind 
blew harder and harder, and I was obliged to shut my eyes 
sometimes to keep out the sharp particles flying about in such 
profusion. After toiling for three quarters of an hour, I 
reached the region where the lava lay in large cakes, and in 
a quarter of an hour more, I found it hot and smoking, with 
any quantity of half burning cinders under my feet. 

The guide had taken up in his haversack a few eggs, and 
giving me two or three, I placed them in the cinders and 
among the fragments of lava, where in a minute or two they 
were thoroughly roasted, as 1 discovered by eating them. I 
think I should have liked them better if I had not fancied 
they had a flavor of sulphur, which, so far as I know, is never 
recommended in cooking. Alexander declined to eat any 
eggs, saying he wished to reserve all the strength he had to 
get to the top. 

After this little luncheon, we resumed our climbing, and 
soon knew by the crevices in the mountain, out of which sul- 
phurous smoke was issuing, from the burning sensation of our 
feet and the generally hot and half suffocating atmosphere, 
that we could not be very far from the crater. Brimstone 
was abundant thereabout. It lay in great yellow spots along 



A TAWXING GVLF OF FIRE. 491 

and around the path I took, and so filled the air with its 
fumes that I could hardly breathe. I took out my handker- 
chief, moist from frequent mopping of my face, and tied it 
over my mouth and nostrils to prevent inhaling the sulphur. 
The guide now pointed out a hollow in the mountain full of 
cracks and seams, which, he said, had once been the crater — 
about sixty or seventy years before, in all probability — but 
which no more resembled it than many other places I had 
noticed. 

Fifteen minutes more, and I stood on the brink of the real 
crater. I confess I was surprised. I had expected to see 
only a moderate-sized hole partially filled with hot ashes, sur- 
rounded with smoke and vapor. Instead of this, I saw before 
me at my very feet, a vast, yawning fiery gulf, from which 
rushed great blasts of hot air, threatening to stifle me. Far 
below, the flames, white, yellow, crimson, and purple, were 
raging, and all the interior of the volcano looked red-hot. It 
seemed as if it must have been burned out hollow, and as if 
all the outside were only a shell, which might break through 
at any minute, and let me down into the fiery pit. 

I could not see to the bottom on account of the vapor and 
smoke ; but the crater appeared to be twelve to fifteen hund- 
red feet deep, and seventeen to eighteen hundred feet in diam- 
eter. There was a tremendous hissing and boiling, bubbling, 
and muttering, as if every minute there might be a new erup- 
tion. There was no danger of that, however, as the crater 
always fills up before an eruption takes place ; indeed, it is 
caused, as supposed, by the choking up of the ordinary vents 
by which the steam and gasses and hot air generally escape. 

The old Romans used to believe that the crater of Vesu- 
vius was one of the mouths of Hades, and the belief was 
natural enough to so superstitious a people. If there were 
any mouths or openings to any such imaginary region, I should 
be quite willing to regard the crater as one of them. Appear- 
ances are eminently in its favor. 

There was a species of fascination about the burning gulf. 
I felt a painful satisfaction in standing on the brink, and 



492 



MAGNIFICENT VIEW. 



wondering in how many seconds I should perish, were I to 
give a single step forward. Blast after blast, and wave upon 
wave, of fiery heat dashed up and beyond me, until I fancied 
my eyelashes, eyebrows, and whiskers must be singed, and my 
face blistered. The sulphur odors were very powerful, and, 
strong as my lungs are, they seemed sometimes to be almost 
in a state of congestion. 

Persons of a consumptive tendency would be in peril there, 
I am confident. Alexander, who was robust and vigorous, 
told me he nearly fainted on the edge of the crater, and that 
it gave him a shock he had never before experienced. When 
we returned to Naples, he was sick and confined to his bed 
for nearly a week — the result of the excitement and exhaust- 
ion caused by his adventure. 

While we were on the summit of the volcano, the wind 
lulled and the clouds broke away. The sun, which was slowly 
descending, came out clearly, and bathed the beautiful bay, 
the distant city, Herculaneum, Pompeii, Capri, Ischia, Poz- 
zuoli, and all the charming scenery for miles around in a vast 
flood of golden glory. Such a grand view, under such favor- 
able circumstances, I have rarely witnessed. It was well 
worth the trouble of climbing Vesuvius, for the broad region 
of land and sea, town and villa, island and mountain, ruins 
of the past, and splendors of the present, lay stretched out in 
the soft, purple air, as in a fairy dream. The varied and de- 
lightful picture of nature was a fine contrast and relief to the 
awful gloom and terror of the burning crater. I remained 
on the top of the mountain mitil the sun had touched the 
horizon, watching in the mean time with deep interest the ever- 
changing and gorgeous shadows falling upon the vision of 
beauty which lay beneath my feet. I felt the supreme satis- 
faction of gazing on some of the rarest aspects of nature. 
They stole into my memory and have lingered there since in 
such forms of loveliness as to bring back almost daily the 
ascent of the volcano, its awful mysteries, and its crowning 
splendors. 

Having supped full of the crater, and having swallowed 



BACK TO NAPLES. 493 

two or three glasses of the hot wine the guide had carried up, 
having paid the whole half-dozen of the beggars the exorbi- 
tant price they demanded, and given them what they wanted 
to drink, I began the descent. The Italians were determined 
to be recognized, but as I declared in the choicest Tuscan 
that I would not give them another carlino, and that I'd hurt 
some of them if they touched me, they let me alone severely. 
Going down was fine fun. At every bound my feet sunk so 
deep into the ashes and lava that falling was impossible, so 
long as I leaned backward. I ran all the way, and in less 
than three minutes was where the horses were tied to the 
blocks of lava. They had looked as small as rabbits from 
the summit and I was glad to see them resume their original 
proportions, convinced if they were reduced in any way they 
would never reach the railway station. 

I took the guide's horse, and as he seemed desirous to get 
to his stable he moved oflf in good style. I urged him to a 
run, and all three of us dashed over the road at that pace, 
making clouds of dust, whirling through the vineyards, past 
the wine-shops, the yelping curs, the dirty children, the hide- 
ous old women, the greasy-looking men, until we reached 
Torre dell' Annunziata, our faces crimson, and our horses 
white with foam. Covered with dust, and talking English to 
each other, we were recognized by beggars, boot-blacks, news- 
boys, and sweet-meat venders, and fairly besieged. We took 
refuge in a wine-shop, and waited until the train arrived, 
when we returned to Naples in a very soiled condition, the 
mob following us and clamoring for every coin between a tor- 
nese and a pezza, in the name of all the saints in the calendar. 




CHAPTER LXIL' 

VENICE. 

■ENICE is an architectural romance. Some 
strange and interesting history is bound up 
in every noticeable building. It fairly bristles 
"with associations, and teems with mysteries never 
yet explained. The most original and peculiar 
city of the world, it has a species of fascination 
for the reasoning mind no less than the poetic brain. 
For ten centuries Venice was the scene of perpetual strug- 
gles, of great enterprises, of remarkable reverses, of dazzling 
triumphs. An aristocratic democracy, a liberal despotism, 
an enlightened tyranny, all the power seemingly resident in 
the Doges, the Doges were as liable to arrest and punishment 
as the humblest citizen. The greatest among their rulers lost 
their heads, and no one, though they were very popular and 
had rendered great service to the State, Aurmured at their 
doom. The Inquisition of the Three and the Council of the 
Ten were supreme ; and yet they, in turn, might any day have 
found themselves in the dungeons of the Ducal Palace, and 
twenty-four hours after their headless corpses might have 
been floating at midnight in a silent gondola under the mys- 
tic Bridge of Sighs. 

All the history and all the fiction of which Venice forms so 
large a part, comes freshly to your mind as you stand in the 
famous Piazza San Marco, or glide along its winding canals. 
All the dead Doges ending with Ludorico Manini file before 
you. Blanca Capello leaves her palace (still standing mute 
and mouldy), and flies with her lover so handsome and so 



THE PIAZZA. 495 

unworthy. Andrea Dandolo once more returns in triumph 
from golden conquests ; again Sabastiano Ziani weds the Adri- 
atic. Pierre and Jaffier plot, and Belvidera weeps. Antonio 
spurns Shylock on the Rialto. Desdemona listens to Othello, 
and loses her virgin heart through her greedy ear. 

The poetry of Venice is more real than its history. You 
think of Shakespeare's creations when its arms and its alli- 
ances are forgotten. It is a striking proof of genius that the 
great dramatist should have embalmed in his wondrous verse 
the city he never saw, weaving from his fancy what seem 
immortal facts. 

One needs no society in Venice. He has constant compan- 
ionship in his memory, and his culture is as perfect sympathy. 
I have ridden day after day in the gondolas past decaying 
palaces, and out to the islands in the lagoons, careless of the 
hours, and incapable of determining time. The prattle of the 
rowers, directing my attention here and there, fell unheeded. 
I heard what they heard not ; I saw what they could not see. 

Venice is indeed the city of dreams. Existence appears 
unsubstantial there ; exertion impossible ; the future nothing. 
Only the past has a place in the brain of the Bride of the 
Adriatic. I have often felt there that I was Ijang on the soft 
pillows of a million memories, and I dreaded to stir lest they 
should be displaced. The Piazza, as the Piazza San Marco 
is called by way of distinction, has the reputation of one of 
the finest squares in Europe. The marble palaces that have 
been so much praised are blackened with age and weather, 
and not imposing in their style of architecture since certain 
alterations and additions have been made. Once the abode 
of the highest oJSicers of the Republic, they are now occupied 
exclusively as shops, and remind me of the Palais Royal with 
their gay windows and continuous arcades. 

The Piazza, and its vicinity, are the very heart of the city. 
All Venice, at least the fashionable part, goes there on the 
evenings when the bands play, which they usually do three 
times a week. On festal days the Piazza, the Piazetta, the 
Molo, and the Riva degli Schiavoni, are thronged. The two 



496 MENDICANTS AND HAWKERS. 

best caf^s, Florian's and the Quadri, have in front little tables 
extending nearly to the middle of the square. At those tables 
sit men and women, and sometimes children, smoking, drink- 
ing, and sipping sorbetto in the most informal manner and in 
the best of spirits. When the nights were pleasant — and 
they are usually delightful in spring and early summer — I 
always tarried in the Piazza until 11 o'clock, when engaging 
a gondola, I was rowed through the lagoons and out toward 
the Adriatic. 

The Venetians are a pleasure-loving people, though one- 
third of them are reported to be paupers entirely supported 
by public charity. Another third, I should judge, are pro- 
fessional beggars ; for, go where you will, you see made-up 
faces and extended hats soliciting alms. The first words 
Venetian children learn, I suppose, are ^^ Datemi qualcosa, 
iSignore" and the babies are said to turn from the maternal 
font to look for soldi in the maternal eye. 

Sitting in the Piazza would be much pleasanter if one were 
not annoyed constantly by mendicants, flower-girls, hawkers, 
and wandering musicians — a host of bores it is difficult to put 
to flight. No sooner is one gotten rid of than another ap- 
pears. Conversation is interrupted and coffee drinking inter- 
minable under such circumstances. 

I endured the infliction and parted with all my small coin 
in hope of buying my redemption. But having gained a rep- 
utation for good nature, the beggars, flower-girls, hawkers, 
and musicians all bore down upon me with such distracting 
pertinacity that I was obliged to quote several lines of Homer. 
That had the desired effect. They went off" in alarm, believ- 
ing no doubt the Greek words were maledictions, all the more 
dreadful because they were not understood. 

San Marco is one of the most unique churches on the Con- 
tinent. Its architecture, which was originally Byzantine, has 
had so many Gothic and other adjuncts that it is impossible 
to determine its exact character. Begun in the tenth century, 
it has been undergoing modifications and variations ever since. 
It looks like the marriage of a mosque to a cathedral, and as 



SAy MARCO. 497 

if the marriage had been inharmonious. The rich mosaics 
in front and inside of the church, its rich, varied, oriental 
marbles, its five domes, its quaint and elaborate ornamenta- 
tion, attract more than they please the eye. 

Immense sums have been expended upon it — not less than 
$25,000,000 or $30,000,000, it is estimated— and you do not 
wonder at it when you observe the barbaric richness that per- 
vades the building. The mosaic pavement has sunk in many 
places, giving an idea of greater age than the church has. 

The four bronze horses over the principal portals are very 
famous. They have had more changes than any figures 
known. They are believed to have been brought by Augustus 
from Alexandria after his victory over Antony, and to have 
adorned the triumphal arch of Nero, and of other Roman Em- 
perors subsequent to the tyrant's death. Constantine removed 
them to Constantinople, and Doge Dandolo carried them to 
Venice in 1208. Napoleon subsequently took them to Paris, 
and mounted them on the arch of the Place du Carousel. The 
Venitians, who were very indignant at the artistic rape, cre- 
ated such a disturbance that the horses were returned in 1815. 
The people have a superstition connected with the horses, 
believing the city can never prosper without them. 

The Pala d'Oro, which forms the altar-piece, is a valuable 
acquisition, reported to be worth $3,000,000. It is of gold 
and silver, about five feet by three, and incrusted with pre- 
cious stones to the number of several thousand. The Pala 
was made in Constantinople in the tenth century, and contains 
many Latin and Greek inscriptions. For a long time it was 
shown only on festal days ; but it is now exposed to the vul- 
gar eye, and may be examined for a lira, or even half that 
sum. 

The Ducal Palace every one is familiar with, from the count- 
less engravings and photographs that have been scattered - 
everywhere. It is, probably, as interesting as any building 
in the world, for its past is full of mystery, which always has 
its fascination. It is not what we know of the palace, but 
what we do not know, that constitutes its charm. No one 



498 THE INTERIOR. 

can look at its Moorish-Gothic walls (the fifth that have stood 
in the same spot), remembering their predecessors were four 
times destroyed during six memorable centuries, and imagin- 
ing what has occurred beyond those curious colonnades, with- 
out feeling a thrill of historic association. Between the 
two columns of red marble in the upper colonnade the death 
sentences of the republic were formerly published, and from 
the portal adjoining San Marco placards announced the sov- 
ereign decrees of Venice. The building is unique, as every- 
thing is in that city. All the capitals of the short columns 
are different, being richly decorated with foliage, figures of 
men and animals and strange allegorical symbols. 

The interior cannot fail to be interesting if the walls are so 
attractive. Let us enter, and bid the dead Doges live again. 
The court has two cisterns with bronze fronts, reputed to con- 
tain the best, or, more properly, the least bad water in the 
city. We ascend the Giant's Staircase, look at the colossal 
statues of Mars and Neptune, and linger on the landing where 
the Doges were crowned. In the gallery we have reached 
are the busts of Venetian Doges, artists and scholars — among 
them Enrico Dandolo, Bembo, Marco Polo, Tintoretto, Gali- 
leo, Sebastian Cabot, Foscari, Vittorio Pisani, and others. 

Passing along the corridor loggia, we find on the left the 
Golden Staircase, which only the Venetian aristocracy whose 
names were written in the book of nobility were permitted to 
ascend. We then enter the library, where 10,000 valuable 
manuscripts are preserved, and many excellent miniatures of 
the sixteenth century, purchased by Doge Grimani for 500 
sequins. 

We come then to the Sala della Bussola, the ante-room of 
the Council of Ten. At the entrance was the famous lion's 
head, into whose mouth were thrown the secret denunciations 
of the enemies of the State. The head is gone now, but the 
aperture remains. How dreaded it was once ; how harmless 
now ! How many lives, how much pain, that terrible mouth 
has caused. Looking at it even through the shadow of cen- 
turies causes something like a shudder. 



THE STATE PRISONS. 499 

Tlien we reach the hall of the Council of Ten, who here 
ruled the republic, and yet were obnoxious to its decrees — 
tyrants to-day, and perhaps victims to-morrow. Here they 
sat in judgment upon men of power, who never imagined they 
had been suspected, and who, once suspected, were arrested, 
condemned, executed often within twenty-four hours. Ter- 
rible authority, used with such rigid justice that it was almost 
cruelty ! In those days there was but one unpardonable 
crime — lack of loyalty to Venice. Offend the sensitive and 
remorseless abstraction, Venice, and the law moved through 
darkness like a hungry tiger to a bloody revenge. 

We come now to the Senate Hall, and we fancy the severe 
Senators have just quitted their seats to reflect upon some 
measure yet undetermined in council. If we wait, perhaps 
they will come again in the dark robes, with the stern faces 
we have so often seen reproduced by the artist's cunning. 

We open this massive door, and we are in the audience 
chamber of the Doge and his private counsellors. There they 
received foreign Ambassadors, and in the days of their rule 
and pride they were haughty in their demands, exacting in 
their claims, dictatorial in their terms, pitiless in their resents 
ments. Nations knelt before them, and they spurned the 
proudest in the dust. See how time brings its revenges ! 

We mount to the celebrated Sotto Piombi, once prisons, 
where the sufferings of the inmates from heat and cold, in 
summer and winter, were so intense that they perished by 
inches. Venice pitied them not. They had offended Venice, 
and death was the only thing for them. 

Under the Piombi are the Pozzi, or dark cells. We follow 
the guide with torches, and the departed centuries roll back 
again with the crimes, the mysteries, the tortures, the secret 
executions of the despotic republic. Neither light nor hope 
entered there. Every minute was charged with fate. The 
accused was tried without knowing his accusers. He was led 
from the hall to the dark dungeons again. There the priest 
visited him to shrive his soul. No communication was al- 
lowed with the outer world. He was indeed in the jaws of 



^^" HALL OF THE GREATER COUNCIL. 

the hungry lion. The teeth snapped together, and the head- 
less corpse was the only message to his friends. 

We are in the dungeon where Marino Faliero and Jacopo 
Foscari were confined. They breathed this chilly yet stifling 
air. They strained their eyes, as we do when the torches are 
removed. We realize their situation. We pity them. We 
see them pale but heroic. We plead for their liberty ; but 
they are slumbering peacefully, and four centuries of world- 
tossing has not disturbed their sleep. 

The Bridge of Sighs has been made poetical by Byron, and 
ever since the stories have been repeated of State prisoners 
being led to death from the palace to the prison ; of their fate 
being decided when they passed it ; of their agony when they 
stepped upon it, and felt the shadow of their doom. It is 
generally supposed that Faliero and Francesco di Carrara 
went over the Ponte de' Sospiri to the block. But they did 
not, nor did any other political offenders. The prison is com- 
paratively modern. The persons confined there are, and 
always have been, vulgar criminals — robbers, forgers, mur- 
derers — and they alone cross the bridge. All the romance 
of the passage of pain rests upon a fiction or a blunder. 

Some noticeable pictures are in the Hall of the Greater 
Council of the Ducal Palace. Among them is Tintoretto's 
Paradise, 84^ by 34 feet, the largest picture on canvas known. 
It is blackened and marred by efforts at restoration, and is so 
crowded with figures that one must have much patience to 
devote to it the time it requires. Tintoretto must have had 
an insatiable appetite for work, for he did enough to fill a 
dozen ordinary lives. The city is full of his pictures, and 
many of them are exceedingly fine. One must go to Venice 
to get a correct idea of Tintoretto, who certainly had a bold- 
ness and breadth of execution, a variety of invention, and a 
force of expression few artists have ever shown. 

The flower girls in Venice are quite different from those of 
Southern Italy. They are young, many of them pretty and 
very neatly dressed. The comely ones find numerous pat- 
rons ; but I judge from the perfect understanding that seems 



INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE. 501 

to exist between them and many of their customers, that their 
calling is but a thin disguise. 

The Arsenal is worth looking at as an evidence of what 
Venice once was. It has numerous walls and towers, and 
occupies a space two miles in circumference. Though more 
than five centuries old, it has very complete yards, basins, and 
buildings,' and so many of them as to convey a vivid idea of 
the Republic in its days of naval supremacy. 

At present the armory is open to visitors, and even that 
the Austrians plundered. Various suits of armor are shown 
with numerous cross-bows, match-locks, swords, halberds, and 
helmets. One of them, of heavy iron, was worn by Attila, 
King of the Huns, and is quite as much as an ordinary man 
can bear on his shoulders. I tried it on myself, and found it 
the most becoming head-covering I ever had, for it was so 
large that it completely covered my face. 

A fragment of the Bucentoro, the vessel in which the Doge 
espoused the Adriatic, is among the objects of interest, and 
also a model of the ship in which Columbus discovered Amer- 
ica. , The collection is similar to that in the Tower of London, 
but in some respects more interesting. 

The instruments of torture prove the barbarity of the me- 
diaeval ages. There are the thumb-screws, pincers, racks, 
spiked collars, and bone-crushers of the most excruciating 
pattern. What is called the hood of violence is an iron hel- 
met of such ample size as to cover the victim's shoulders. In 
the top are holes into which red-hot spikes were thrust against 
the head and neck to extort confession, which was heard 
through an aperture at the side. 

A number of instruments that were the property of Fran- 
cesco di Carrara, tyrant of Padua, are kept in a cabinet. One 
of them is an infernal machine, which killed whoever opened 
it by a spring connected with two loaded pistol-barrels. 

Though Venice is built, as you remember, on seventy-two 
little islands ; is traversed by about one hundred and fifty 
canals, including the Grand Canal, running through it in the 
form of an S, and has some three hundred and seventy bridges, 



502 CHURCHES AND ACADEMIES. 

the city from the top of the bell-tower of San Marco looks like 
any other city ; the houses being too high and the canals too 
narrow to show its peculiar situation. Though gondolas are 
the ordinary modes of conveyance, one can walk all over the 
town, not more than six miles in circuit, by means of the nar- 
row pavements bordering the canals. The only real street is 
the crooked and narrow Merceria, lined with shops, which 
leads to the Rialto, and is always much crowded. 

In Venice, the first bill of exchange appeared ; the first 
bank of deposit and discount was established, and at the be- 
ginning of the seventeenth century, — the first newspaper in 
the world was published. It received its name G-azzetta 
(Gazette) from the coin for which it was sold. 

The Churches and the Academy of Fine Arts are very in- 
teresting, as are the islands, Burano, Chiogga, Torcello, the 
Lido and Murano, famous even in the middle ages for its glass 
works, and now employing 3,000 persons. Chiogga is noted 
for the beauty of its women, said to have furnished models 
for the old Venetian painters ; but when I was there their 
beauty was invisible. 




CHAPTER LXni. 



OUT-OF-THE-WAT CITIES. 




HE smaller and comparatively out-of-the-way 
places in Italy have always had a strong 
magnetism for me. They are far less pervaded 
than the common centers of travel by the spirit of 
modern progress. They give leisure to become im- 
pregnated with their influences, and to look at their 
records of the past with feelings disconnected from 
the ever-prosaic present. 

Quaint old Rimini draws me from afar ; but I have never 
been quite able to realize that the little walled town of 17,000 
people is the historic home of the Malatestas, and on the site 
of the ancient city of Ariminium. When I crossed the 
eighteen-century-old bridge of Augustus over the Marecchia, 
I felt for the moment as if I were going back to the Roman 
Empire ; but the appeals of a crowd of beggars a few minutes 
after at the railway station brought me back to the present 
century. 

The Arch of Augustus, now the Porta Romana, under 
which the road to Rome passes, is built of travertine ; com- 
memorates the gratitude of the inhabitants to Augustus for 
repairing their roads, and is of much classic interest. The 
Church of San Francesco is covered with armorial bearings 
of the Malatestas — the rose and elephant predominate — and 
the seven sarcophagi contain the ashes of the distinguished 
men the reigning family called to their aid and honor. 

The house of Francesca da Rimini, whom Dante has made 



504 TEE RIVAL RUBICONS. 

immortal, was on the site of the Palazzo Ruffi ; though many 
insist and believe the present building was the home of Paolo's 
mistress. So many sentimental tears have been shed over 
Guido's unhappy daughter, that few romantic minds will ever 
credit the story, recently told, that her tender escapade was 
only one of many similar episodes in her life. 

The ancient port of Rimini, at the mouth of the Marecchia, 
has been destroyed by the sand brought down by the river, 
and is now the resort of many small fishing vessels ; nearly 
half of the entire population being fishermen. 

Leaving Rimini for Cesena, I was anxious to find the far- 
famed Rubicon, and the result was I stopped at every little 
stream to bathe. In most of them there was not water 
enough for the purpose, and I had to content myself with a 
lavation of the feet. The Pisciatello, near Cesena, the Rigossa, 
near Roncofreddo, the Fiumicino, near Sogliano, and the Uso, 
flowing directly into the Adriatic, have each and all put for- 
ward strong claims to be considered the classic stream. Near 
Savignano, the column on which is inscribed a Senatus Con- 
sultum, denouncing any one as sacrilegious who should cross 
the Rubicon with an army or legion, is now declared apocryphal. 
The Uso is most probably the old boundary between ancient 
Italy and Cisalpine Gaul, and is to this day called by the 
peasants II Rubicone. There was more water in that little 
river, and I fancied, when it touched my lips, that it had 
something of the Caesarean flavor — imparted no doubt when 
the great Julius plunged in with the words, '-'■Jacta est alea! " 
Consequently, I give my vote for the Uso as the only original 
Rubicon. The question of authenticity still lies between the 
Uso and Fiumicino, in spite of the Papal Bull of 1758 declar- 
ing in favor of the former stream. It is somewhat notable 
that the dramatic story of Caesar's passage of the Rubicon, 
though told by Plutarch and Suetonius, is not mentioned in 
the " Commentaries," whose author could not have foreborne 
to allude to it on account of his extreme modesty. 

Ravenna is altogether historical, having been the capital of 
the Wetsern Empire, the seat of the Gothic and Longobardic 



RAVENNA. 505 

kings and the metropolis of the Greek Exarchs. Within its 
walls are the tombs of Theodosius's children, of numerous Ex- 
archs and Patriarchs, and of the renowned author of the 
" Divina Commedia." The mausoleum of Theodoric, king of 
the Goths, a rotimda built of blocks of Istrian limestone, is a 
short distance beyond the gates, and the deserted streets are 
full of Christian antiquities, which have undergone little change 
since Justinian's time. Persons interested in theology regard 
Ravenna with the liveliest concern. 

The sea once flowed against the walls of the town, but is 
now about four miles distant. The ancient city was built 
like Venice, upon piles in the midst of a vast swamp, and 
communication kept up by numerous bridges. The tomb of 
Dante, near the Church of San Francesco, is a square edifice 
with a small dome, internally decorated with stucco orna- 
ments. In the neighborhood is Byron's house, and the 
memory of the poet is still cherished in the city, which he 
quitted half a century ago, and where he was honored and 
loved for his countless acts of kindness and generosity. He 
liked Ravenna exceedingly, and praised the climate much more 
than I can, though his partiality to the place may have been 
owing in part to the society of the Countess Guiccioli, with 
whom he passed most of his time. 

The Pineta, or pine forest near the city, extending for 
twenty-five miles along the Adriatic, was one of the poet's 
favorite rides. Besides himself, Dryden, Boccaccio, and 
Dante have sung its praises ; and very grateful in warm 
weather have I found its cooling shades. Ravenna has not 
now a population of over 20,000, many of whom are very 
poor, and largely dependent on the charity of the wealthy 
families. 

Ferrara is one of the decaying capitals that has always 
appealed to me. The old home of Tasso, the faded court of 
the ducal Estes, the grave of poor Parasina Malatesta, it tells 
its own story. 

Grass grows in its broad and deserted streets ; its spacious 
palaces are decaying, and its strong walls enclose thrice as 



606 FEERARA. 

much space as is occupid by the shrunken population. The 
Ferrarese say they have 30,000 in the town ; but I don't be- 
lieve there are 20,000 — not more than one-fifth of what it con- 
tained at the height of its power. 

The principal piazza, del Mercato, in the centre of the town, 
is very mediaeval in appearance. On one side of it is tlio 
Cathedral, a quaint and remarkable structure of the eleventh 
century, which has undergone various changes and modifica- 
tions. On the other side are castellated Gothic buildings 
peculiar to the period. They were once palaces, but now 
serve for the ignoble purposes of trade. The architecture, 
the costumes, the loungers in the piazza have a strange, out- 
of-place look. The people seem as if they had died some 
centuries before; had forgotten to be buried, and were now at 
a loss to find their graves. Strangers attract attention, and 
you observe eyes following you as you go by. Dark-haired 
women peer out of partly-closed blinds as you pass, and 
drowsy vetturini rouse themselves to solicit your custom. 

Italy is there, as it was twenty years ago, before the innova- 
tion of railways and the crowding into it of English-speaking 
strangers. Prices are low. You can have things at your 
own terms. If you won't give six francs, three or two will be 
accepted. 

At my hotel — the best in the town — the landlord named 
five francs for my room, and when I repeated " cinque 
franci " for a clear understanding, he said, in bad Italian, but 
with a seraphic smile, " Signore can have it for four if he will 
consent to stay." 

The arrival of a guest at a public house creates a sensation, 
especially late in the season. All the men, women, and 
children have a glance at him from doors and windows, and 
the drowsy dog in the court-yard opens an optic to make sure 
the vision is substantial ; wags his tail hospitably, and drops 
to sleep again. 

Mould clings to the houses ; the stucco drops from the 
palaces ; vast gateways crumble ; fair gardens run to waste ; 
marble columns totter ; towers sink ; priceless pictures 



COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 507 

spoil with dampness, and semi-desolation girds faded Ferrara 
romid. 

I like Ferrara, for all this. I enjoy its sleepiness, its stag- 
nation, and share in its soft dream of the past. 

I walked about the old city one afternoon so far as the 
ramparts ; sat on the strong-built walls, and thought how 
times had changed since they were reared. What need of 
them now ? Who wants forlorn Ferrara to-day ? Who would 
have it ? The walls are mockeries. The land that can be 
overflowed in the event of a siege is merely a harbor for 
mosquitoes and a generator of fever. The decayed city can- 
not boast of an enemy. The race of the Estes is extinct. 
Their glory has faded forever. 

As I sat on the walls the sun went down, and the stars 
came out. The frogs croaked in the marsh ; the swallows 
wheeled through the shadows of the evening ; the bats flew 
out of a broken bridge ; the lizards ran along the walls, and 
the clocks of the city churches tolled the passing hour like a 
funeral knell. I imagined the ghosts of the departed stealing 
over the ramparts to visit the home they once had loved. 

I imagined the sad-eyed Tasso fretting against fate and 
mom-ning for his mistress so far above him. I imagined 
Ariosto crowned with laurel, and repeating his dulcet rhymes 
to the music of his own heart. I imagined Henry the Proud 
reaching out hopefully for the crowns of Brunswick and 
Hanover. I imagined Lucrezia Borgia, beautiful and cruel, 
stealing from her palace to meet the assassin who had come 
from Rome. I imagined Calvin, hard and narrow as his 
creed, convincing Renata with his pitiless logic. I imagined 
the gentle Leonora sighing tenderly for the poet she dared 
not love. 

These projections of my brain passed ; but the bats, and the 
lizards, and decaying Ferrara remained. 

The castle, formerly the Ducal Palace, is excellently pre- 
served. It is really an old-fashioned castle, as its name 
implies, with moat, drawbridge, turrets, and bastions all 
complete. It is built of brick, is cumbrous and massive, and 



508 HUGO AND PARASINA. 

has four imposing towers. It was the residence of the Estes 
during their entire career, and is full of associations. The 
hall of Aurora, in which Leonora, Duke Alphonso's sister, had 
her apartments, is shown. It received its name from the 
Aurora that Titian painted on the ceiling as a portrait of 
the woman Tasso loved, and is still admired. There is 
the room of John Calvin, while the brave daughter of Louis 
XII. gave him an asylum from his persecutors. 

In the prisons below are the dungeons in which the un- 
fortunate Parasina Malatesta, wife of Nicholas III., and her 
stepson and lover, Hugo, were confined after their guilty 
passion had been discovered. Byron has made the sad story 
familiar in his well-known poem. Hugo was beheaded in the 
court-yard. Parasina, while being led to execution, asked 
after her lover, and, having been told he was dead, said she 
had no desire to live, and yielded with apparent gladness to 
the axe. She is said to have been a charming woman, and it 
was quite natural she should be fond of Hugo, a gallant and 
generous youth, rather than of her husband, a grim and un- 
interesting man. It was not wise nor just in Nicholas to 
condemn his wife and natural son. Hugo had merely done 
what his father had done before him, and he probably inherited 
the strong passions of his sire. 

How much more philosophic if Nicholas had said to his 
wife : " You have been very imprudent, to say the least, my 
dear. But if you don't love me, it is not your fault. Take 
Hugo. He is an excellent fellow. Go where you will. I'll 
pay your passage to the next station, even as far as Chicago, 
if it be necessary. Get a divorce. I'll help you to it. Marry 
Hugo — he will make a first-rate husband — and you will forget 
in his society the unhappiness you have had in mine. Don't 
weep, Parisina. Smile, rather, at the good fortune before 
you. I've paid all your bills. Farewell. You know I dislike 
scenes. The best thing for a man and woman, when they 
find out they don't love each other, is to go apart. There, 
there, Parisina, no tears. If I furnished you with a bad hus- 
band, I have now supplied a better article. Read French 
novels, and be happy." 



THE TRA GED T D ONE IN PR OSE. 509 

Had such a course been followed, Parisina and her lover 
would have become Mr. and Mrs. Hugo, and perhaps reared 
a family. They would have gotten along prosaically, but 
comfortably. They would have had occasional quarrels, and 
he would have staid away at the club very late every once in 
a while. He might have complained about expenses, but 
she, like a true woman, would have drowned arithmetic in 
tears, and received a larger allowance the next year. 

No one would have heard of their story ; scandal would 
have been avoided, and instead of being quoted in defence of 
lawless love, and injuring the cause of domestic loyalty by their 
example, they would have been regarded as a model pair 
who kept their skeletons in their own closet, and gave healthy 
children to the state. 

But it was not to be. They were made to expiate the 
misfortune of temperament and circumstance, and the senti- 
mental world has embalmed their memory in its tears. 

They manage those things better in Chicago. 

Tasso's prison is one of the sights of Ferrara. It is in the 
lower part of the Hospital of St. Anna, and is visited by hun- 
dreds every season. The story runs that he was kept there 
for eighteen years, because he had the temerity to fall in love 
with his patron, Duke Alphonso's sister. Another version 
is that he was really insane, and a thu'd, that the Duke im- 
prisoned him for violent abuse heaped upon the noble family 
by the bard, who deemed himself badly treated. On the cell 
are written the names of Byron, Chateaubriand, Lamartine, 
Casimir Delavigne, John Smith, D. Wilkins Jones, P. 
Thompson, and a host of other celebrities. 

The prison is interesting to those who believe Tasso 
was ever in it. But many persons who have investigated the 
subject hold that the tale is a fiction ; that the poet was not 
confined there, or anywhere else. Goethe and DeStael were 
among the skeptics, and there is excellent reason for their 
skepticism. All the Ferrarese are ready to make affidavit that 
the author of " Jerusalem Delivered " underwent the horrors 
of a long captivity in the identical spot ; but I fear their judg- 
ment is biased by a fondness for francs. 



510 



LUCREZIA BORGIA'S HOME. 



Lucrezia Borgia's palace, in the Corso del Vittorio Eman- 
nuele, is much decayed, and several of the doors and windows 
are boarded up. She lived there eighteen years with her 
husband, the Duke of Ferrara, who must have had a pleasant 
matrimonial existence. Lucrezia was the kind of companion 
who would not grow monotonous. She was constantly pre- 
paring agreeable surprises for her friends in the way of cold 
steel and artistic poisons. Between her intrigues and assas- 
sinations, she must have found time to make her liege-lord 
very happy — particularly if he liked a quiet life. It must 
have been interesting for him to lie awake at night to con- 
jecture whether she would stab him in bed or poison him at 
breakfast. We have few such accomplished women now-a- 
days. The world is losing ground. 





CHAPTER LXIV. 

LOMBARDY. 

HEN a small boy I read my own thoughts in 
the lines of Rogers's colloquial poem : 

" Are those the distant turrets of Verona ; 
And shall I sup where Juliet at the mask 
Saw her lov'd Montague, and now sleeps by him V 

Shakespeare's tragedy also, the grandest love 
poem in any language, filled me with longings 
to see the city where the passionate daughter 
of the Capulets lived, loved, and died. 

I had all kinds of sentimental associations with Verona — 
even wrote a story, full of soft skies, tender tears and de- 
licious woes, and located it on the banks of the Adige. Ve- 
rona stood to me for Italy, and my most poetic imaginings 
clustered round it. I dreamed with eyes shut and eyes open 
of Verona ; fancied all the women beautiful, and all the men 
gifted and knightly who had the rare good fortune to dwell 
in that favored town. 

As I grew to manhood and skepticism I recovered from all 
such notions, and knew Verona to be nothing but a common- 
place Italian city, which would hardly be mentioned in 
America if the poet of all time had not made it immortal. 
But still I wanted to visit it on account of the ideas I had 
had in boyhood. 

When I stepped off the cars I found myself surrounded by 
a score or more of the most ragged and garlic-perfumed vet- 
turini I had encountered in all Italy. They each and all in- 
vited me to ride in their cabriolets behind the worst-looking 
beasts I had seen on the Continent. Poor quadrupeds, I 



512 VERONA. 

pitied them. They seemed ashamed of themselves. Not one 
of them, could he have spoken, would have acknowledged 
himself a horse, or even have made any pretension of the 
sort. Rosinante was a Babieca to them. 

The breathing skeletons stood together in the warm sun- 
shine, with the hope of casting a shadow ; but they could 
not. A shadow was impossible to any combination of such 
thinnesses as theirs. 

I wanted to ride ; I must take one of the vehicles and one 
of the apologies for a horse. There was no choice. Where 
all were so bad it would have been idiocy to discriminate. I 
engaged a cabriolet after making an agreement with the vet- 
turino not to make me pay for the forlorn quadruped if he 
should happen to run (I use run for rhetorical effect) against 
a shadow and kill himself. So we started at a snail-like 
speed, and with difficulty passed three large buildings, which 
we shouldn't have done, if the buildings had not been too old 
to get out of the way. 

The streets were almost deserted. The people seemed 
stupid and common-place. On the authority of William 
Shakespeare, there were once two gentlemen of Verona. I 
think they must have died, without issue ; as I looked for 
them or their descendants, and found nothing to answer their 
description. 

The situation of Yerona is very fine, the rushing river di- 
viding the town, the varied landscape dotted with villas and 
groves, and the hills and mountains purple in the distance, 
giving it a beautiful setting. The modern fortifications are 
very strong, and have of late been much improved. 

The principal object of attraction is the ancient Roman 
amphitheater in the center of the city. It is the best pre- 
served amphitheater in Italy, and is very interesting. It was 
probably built about sixty or seventy years after Christ, and was 
capable of containing twenty thousand people. It is of mar- 
ble, has forty tiers of seats, and several loges or boxes, 
evidently for persons of distinction. An arch runs com- 
pletely round and under it, and in this arch are what is said 



THE R Oil A N AMPHITHEA TER. 513 

to have been prisons for condemned persons, and cages for 
wild beasts to which the condemned were exposed. 

Churchists of this age, especially the Roman Catholics, are 
resolved upon the massacre of a great many Christians by 
the Roman Emperors. I have no great veneration for Tibe- 
rius, Caligula, Nero, Domitian, and other such royal murder- 
ers ; but I am convinced they were not so bad as repre- 
sented. I have no doubt they put to death a number of the 
early Christians. It was one of their habits. They consid- 
ered that the best use to put a man to was to kill him. If 
they had not slaughtered the Christians, they would have 
been discriminating in their favor, for they slaughtered every- 
body else. 

The churches claim to have ascertained to their own satis- 
faction that thousands of the early Christians were made 
martyrs in the Verona amphitheatre ; but there is no au- 
thority, so far as I am aware, for any such statement or 
opinion. 

I spent several hours in the amphitheater, and it lost none 
of its interest by my belief that wild beasts had not dined 
daily on Christians. 

There are ruins of a large aqueduct near the amphitheater 
which show that it was once flooded with water from the 
Adige, for the presentation of naval sports in the arena. All 
the indications are that it was a grand establishment in its 
day. The Veronese are very proud of the arena, as they 
term it, and have taken particular pains to preserve it. 

Many of the arcades are now occupied by mechanics and 
small tradesmen, and the interior is used for exhibitions of 
fireworks, tight-rope dancing, and feats of horsemanship. In 
the thirteenth century judicial combats were decided there, 
and it is stated that the Visconti hired it out for duels, 
charging twenty-five lire for each duel. 

After the amphitheater the Tombs of the Scaligers rank 
next in importance. They are two large and handsome 
monuments adjoining a little dingy church, and present the 
names of once prominent leaders, who would not otherwise 



514 THE HOME OF JULIET. 

have been known at all. One of them was so anxious to be 
remembered that he left a very large sum for the erection of 
a column over his ashes. The column is a fine specimen of the 
Gothic, but has grown so dingy and has crumbled so much in 
the several centuries it has stood there that a large part of its 
beauty is lost. In the enclosure are four sarcophagi of sol- 
diers very noted in their time, whose names can not now be 
conjectured. 

Juliet's tomb it was, of course, my duty to visit, whatever 
doubt there may be of its genuineness. So I drove to the 
place, rang a bell at an iron gate, paid a few sous to a slat- 
ternly girl who opened it, and walked through an arbor cov- 
ered with vines to the hallowed place. I had no idea Juliet 
was buried there ; indeed, I felt assured her tomb had been 
destroyed years before ; but still, when I looked upon the horse- 
trough they show for the last resting place of Juliet, I re- 
moved my hat for the local association. What difference if 
Juliet's body had never been there ? In Verona she lived ; 
in Verona she died ; in Verona she was buried. Her spirit 
was there ; her memory perfumed the spot ; her history filled 
the world. 

Though the tomb is a deception for a mercenary purpose, 
it is well to have even a cenotaph to which sentimental pil- 
grims may go and indulge in the luxury of romantic sensi- 
bility. 

" Gentle Juliet, she died for love," I said experimentally, 
in Italian, to the uneducated girl who had admitted me. Her 
face changed in a moment ; her eye moistened as she an- 
swered, " Si Signore, Giulietta infelice." 

Women, all the planet over, whether high or low, culti- 
vated or ignorant, on this or the other side of the sea, are 
made a common sisterhood by their faith in love. 

Juliet's house, which was no doubt her home at the time 
of her melancholy death, is pointed out in the Via di Santa 
Croce. It is a very narrow building of stuccoed brick, over 
a gateway, and indicates that her parents could not haVe 
been in very prosperous circumstances. I remembered the pa- 



ROMEO FORGOTTEN. 515 

latial residence Edwin Booth assigned her at his theater, and 
could not help ^rawing the contrast between the real and the 
ideal. 

Where art thou, Romeo ? The question may well be asked ; 
for he seems forgotten even in Yerona. Why should Juliet 
be remembered, and not he ? It is certainly more remark- 
able for a man than for a woman to die for love, and Romeo 
ought to have full credit for his romantic suicide. Poor Ju- 
liet was Mrs. Montague, to be sure ; but that is no reason her 
husband should be so cruelly ignored. 

I never quite understood why Romeo should have made such 
an ado about his banishment to Mantua, until I went there 
myself. It was Mantova la Gloriosa in his time, but now-a- 
days it is not at all glorious. On the flat and sedgy banks 
of the Mincio, surrounded by lakes and marshes, very strong, 
militarily, and very unhealthy, actually, it has no claims to 
natural beauty, but its mediaeval buildings and historic asso- 
ciations still draws the traveler to the ancient capital of the 
munificent Gonzagas. The center of the city shows consid- 
erable commercial activity, but the grass grows in many of 
the streets, and the palaces and public edifices bear traces of 
decay. Mantua has no large squares, but vast architectural 
piles, hoary battlemented towers, castles, and Lombard arches 
vividly recall the feudal period, and give it a novel aspect. 
Its population is increasing — remarkably enough — and is now 
nearly 40,000, but during the reign of Giovanni Francesco 
II., and Frederico II., in the fifteenth and sixteenth century, 
it must have been more than twice as large ; for Mantua 
was then one of the richest and gayest courts of Italy. 

The Castello di Corte, the palace and fortress of the Gonzagas, 
conspicuous for its grand machicolated towers, is occupied at 
present as public offices. The immense edifice (it contains 
over five hundred apartments) adjoining the Castello, and 
generally known as the Palazzo Imperiale, has had more in- 
vention and ingenuity of architecture exhausted upon it to 
little purjiose than any building iu Italy. The frescoes by 



516 MILAN. 

Giulio Romano are some of them very good, and others very 
inferior. 

I had some curiosity to visit the Palazzo del Diavolo, re- 
membering the legend that it had sprung up in a single night 
by the agency of the Fiend. It has a desolate, dreary, 
haunted look ; but this effect is counteracted by its present 
occupancy as shops and lodgings. I had heard that it was 
infested by genuine and unmistakable ghosts, who produced 
blood-freezing effects, and I was anxious for a nocturnal in- 
terview. But on inquiry I learned the ghosts had retired 
from business, owing to the increasing lack of confidence in 
their supernatural character, and so I quitted Mantua in deep 
disappointment. 

Why do ghosts always retreat before earnest seekers ? I 
have been looking for them the world over, since childhood, 
and have never yet been able to find even one. 

Milan is so modern compared to the other cities of the 
country — thanks to the numerous wars that destroyed all her 
ancient and mediaeval remains — has such an air of bustle and 
business, and contains so much of the Parisian element and 
spirit that it seems more French than Italian. Still Milan, 
unlike its neighbor and rival, Turin, consumes a week most 
pleasantly. It has fine buildings, churches, picture-galleries, 
libraries, theatres, and public gardens ; and the people appear 
as gay and as fond of pleasure as they are on the Seine. The 
central attraction of the city is of course the Cathedral, so 
beautiful that it deserves all its fame. Everybody has seen 
photographs of the church ; but no one can form a just idea 
of its magnificence, its elaborate details, and its superb effects 
without a personal visit. I fancied its towers and four hun- 
dred and fifty statues would give it an overloaded, if not 
tawdry appearance. I suspected there were tricks and shams 
in its architecture, and that the whole would lack fitness 
and proportion. I was agreeably deceived. Completeness, 
solidity, symmetry, and harmony particularly distinguished 
the structure. It is marble throughout ; has a finished and 
impressive character, even from the exterior, which no other 
church has. 



THE SPLENDID CA THEDRAL. 5 j 7 

You are not compelled to look at it from any particular 
angle or point of view to appreciate it. It is grand and 
beautiful at the same time, and its grandeur and beauty are 
so blended you hardly know which predominates. As a 
Gothic structure it has no equal in Europe. Milan would 
be worth a long journey if it contained nothing but its 
cathedral. Its stained-glass windows, especially those behind 
the altar, are really gorgeous. The church should be viewed 
outwardly and inwardly mider the sunshine for full appre- 
ciation. The ascent of the principal tower— three hundred 
and thirty-five feet, I believe— enables you to see the statues 
and spires in their completeness of detail, and gives a eowp 
(Voeil of the entire building that camiot be had from below. 
There are galleries running all over the upper part of the 
structm-e, forming such a labyrinth that it is easy to lose your 
way, even under the light of the skies. I needed fully half 
an hour to descend, and got on the right road at last only by 
discovering that every other one was wrona-. 

From the principal tower you have a pleasant view of the 
city and surrounding country. You see Pavia, the Apennines, 
the Alps, including Mount Rosa, Mount Blanc, and the Mat- 
terhorn— one of the grandest panoramas I remember from a 
spire. 

One day when I was on the tower there was a grand 
thunder-storm. I saw it gathering in the mountains, and the 
varied cloud effects— the grand chiaro-oscuro of Nature— 
with the wind, the lightning, the mists, and the sweeping 
down of the rain from the Alps into the valley, was a sort of 
meteorological epic. I watched the storm for an hour, and 
was charmed with the disappearance and reappearance of the 
different peaks as they wrapped and unwrapped themselves in 
and from the mantles of mist and the gray and sombre hoods 
of the clouds. Once in a while the sun would stream through 
the entire mass as if the heavens had caught fire ; then the 
lightning would dart down the inky depths, like a messenger 
of flame calling upon the crags to speak, which they did^in 
grumbling, muttering, bellowing, crashing voices. The wind 



518 -D^ VlNCrS LAST SUPPER. 

blew as if it would tumble the spires among which I stood, 
and the thunder boomed like distant cannon, sometimes 
dying gradually away amid its own echoes, reminding one of 
a forest of lions roaring themselves to sleep. 

La Scala is very much like San Carlo, at Naples, in the in- 
terior arrangements, and will hold as many persons — five 
thousand. It has five tiers of boxes, a large platea, or par- 
quette, and a gallery ; is simple in its adornments, and will 
not compare in elegance or beauty with some of the New 
York theatres. The stage is very large, and has a double 
floor, so arranged that fountains and other spectacular aids 
can be introduced with fine effect. Some of the operas, to 
which the theatre is mainly devoted, and the spectacles during 
the carnival are presented with a superb tnise en scene. 

Da Vinci's Last Supper, which has been copied oftener, 
perhaps, than any other fresco in the world, is in the refectory 
of a former Dominican monastery. I knew how abominably 
the painting had been treated by other persons claiming to be 
artists ; how they had daubed and marred it under pre- 
tence of retouching it ; but I did not expect to find it in 
such a shocking state as it is. The wall has crumbled, the 
fresco has peeled off, and new colors have been so plastered 
upon it, that very little of the original picture remains. To 
pretend to admire it now for anything more than its drawing 
is, to my mind, an affectation. Li a very few years not a 
crumb of the Last Supper will be left. Peter, and John, and 
Judas, and James, once depicted with such a master-hand, 
will have faded into eternal night, unless one of the miracles 
of the Church, so readily and successfully produced at all 
seasons, shall restore it to its pristine freshness. The art 
world cannot afford to lose Da Vinci's chef d'oeuvre, and I 
suggest, therefore, the introduction of a miracle to some pur- 
pose. 




CHAPTER LXV. 

DOWN THE DANUBE. 

— ~ HE Danube, rising in the Black Forest, in the 

Grand Duchy of Baden, at an elevation of 
2,900 feet above the sea, and flowing in its 
general course from west to east, a distance of 
1,000 miles, empties into the Black Sea by four 
different outlets. The great river is very crooked, 
and with all its windings is nearly 2,500 miles 
long. Its width varies greatly. At Ulm, where it becomes 
navigable, it is some 330 feet ; in Moldavia, it is 1,400 feet; 
in Turkey, over 2,000 feet wide, and below Hirsova, in Bul- 
garia, it expands like a sea. It may be considered navigable 
for steamers from Ulm to its mouth except between Drenkova 
and Kladova, where it is interrupted by three great rapids ; 
but navigation is often difficult by reason of sandbanks and 
shallows. Before the introduction of steam, in 1830, the 
boats descending the Danube, so swift is the current, were 
very rarely taken back, but broken up at the end of the voyage, 
as flat-boats are on the south-western rivers. The great 
stream receives in all some sixty navigable tributaries, and its 
volume of water is equal to that of all the other rivers combined 
emptying into the Black Sea. 

The picturesque part of the Danube is between Linz and 
Buda, a distance of about 300 miles, and it is over this part 
that sight-seers travel. I devoted a couple of hours to Linz, 
the capital of Upper Austria, said to contain 27,000 or 28,000 
people, though its appearance does not indicate that it has 



520 STEAMERS AND PASSENGERS. 

half the number. The Hauptplatz, ascending from the river, 
is the only spacious or pleasant street, and its center is mark- 
ed by the ugly Trinity Column, much resembling the one in 
Vienna. It was erected by Charles VI. in 1723 to commem- 
orate the termination of hostile invasions and the ravages of 
pestilence. 

The Capuchin Church contains the tomb of Montecuccoli, 
the well-known Imperial General during the Thirty Years' 
War. 

Near the town is a fine view of the Danube and the Alps 
of Salzburg and Styria. The fortifications of Linz, erected at 
great expense about twenty-five years ago, are being removed. 
Our late war showed Austria their worthlessness ; and she, 
like other nations of the Old World, is taking lessons from 
the New. 

The steamers for Vienna are small, something like those 
on the lesser Swiss lakes, though not so comfortable. They 
are often crowded during the spring and summer, and it is 
troublesome sometimes to get a seat on deck. I wedged my- 
self in between two fleshy old German women, or rather they 
sandwiched me, and 1 was at first compelled, though it was a 
very warm afternoon, to admire the Danube from that disad- 
vantageous position. I had no idea of finding such a variety 
of people on the Danube steamers. The passengers, particu- 
larly after quitting Vienna, were made up of Germans, Bohe- 
mians, Hungarians, Poles, Americans, Greeks, and Turks, 
representing the Protestant, Catholic, Greek, and Mohamme- 
dan creeds. They were of all grades of society, too — mer- 
chants, soldiers, tourists, professional men, diplomats, specu- 
lators, adventurers, priests, and nondescripts. Many of the 
men and women were curious studies ; and I wove out of the 
impressions they gave me material enough for many illustra- 
tions of the peculiarities of human nature. 

Below Linz the right bank of the Danube is flat, but numer- 
ous islands make the river picturesque, and in an hour you 
have a view of the mountains. Near Asten are the Augustine 
Abbey o£» St. Florian, one of the oldest in Austria, and the 



NOTED PERSONS AND PLACES.. 521 

castle of Tillysburg, erected on the site of the one presented 
by the Emperor Ferdinand to General Tilly during the Thirty 
Years War. On one of the islands is the ruin of Spielberg, 
another ancient and historic castle. Still further down are 
the castle of Pragstein, projecting into the stream, and vari- 
ous romantic ruins followed by a contraction of the stream as 
it flows through high, wooded mountains. 

At Grein, ridges of rock jut out into the river, making the 
Greiner Schwall a surging water. In that vicinity the Dan- 
ube has palpably worn its way through the solid granite, and 
is soon divided by a large island called Werth. It is impeded 
by vast rocks, and is forced into three channels, through one 
of which, the Strudel, only thirty or forty feet broad, the river 
runs like a rapid. There the boat descends, and requires 
skillful piloting to prevent its going to pieces on the project- 
ing rocks. 

An hour after you reach the ruined castle of Werfenstein, 
and opposite it another, the ancient robber stronghold of 
Struden ; then a whirlpool, little more than a rapid of late 
years ; then grand, rocky landscapes, chateaus, crumbling 
old abbeys and watch-towers. Near Saussenstein is a pil- 
grimage church, Maria Taferl, on an eminence of fifteen 
hundred feet, which is visited annually by a hundred thousand 
devotees. 

At Pochlarn, some miles below, is located the traditional 
residence of Rudiger, who, according to the Nibelungen-lied, 
entertained Chrimhilde most sumptuously when she was 
journeying to the land of the Huns. He was a very noted 
person, as I remember the wild romance of the Lied, passing 
his time in guzzling wine, cutting throats and running off 
with other men's wives. He used to think nothing of routing 
single-handed an army or two before breakfast, and set as 
much store by what he called his honor as a New York mil- 
lionaire does by a five-dollar bill. 

At Melk, or Molk, is the immense Benedictine Abbey, sev- 
eral times besieged, and still having the bastions Napoleon 
strengthened after the battle of Aspern. A once-dreaded 



522 • CITY OF PRESSBURG. 

robber castle is at Aggstein, where the chieftain had a pleas- 
ant habit of outraging the beautiful women (all outraged 
women are beautiful somehow) who fell into his hands, after 
which he cut their hearts out and ate them broiled — a bit of 
carnivorous sentiment that ought to find admirers, as it has 
literary imitators in Swinburne and others of the supersensual 
school. Then come more churches, abbeys, ruined castles, 
and robber dens, scenes of battle, siege and fable — enough to 
satisfy the greatest lover of romantic variety. 

The broad part of the Danube does not touch Vienna ; but 
you go to it by an arm or branch called the Viennese Danube, 
serving the purpose of a canal, which many visitors have 
supposed to be the famous river in its fulness. From Vienna 
you take a small steamer, and are transferred to a larger one 
when you reach the main arm, a distance of several miles. 
- You are soon at Lobau, the island where the Austrians and 
the French had the hard fight in 1809, and pass the villages, 
somewhat inland, of Epling, Aspen, and Wagram, memorable 
in the Napoleonic wars. At Deutsch-Altenburg is a fine 
ruin, and at Hainburg there are many decayed walls and 
towers, and a stone carving of Ki«g Etzel, who, the Niebelun- 
gen-lied says, spent some time thereabouts. 

You pass Pressburg, the old capital of Hungary, where the 
Magyar kings were crowned — now a dull city, with little to 
make it attractive. 

The extensive castle at the summit of the Schlossberg was 
burned down more than fifty years ago ; but the view from 
that height, embracing the plains of Hungary and the wind- 
ings of the Danube, is the chief attraction at Pressburg. The 
Cathedral (with a wooden tower), consecrated in 1452, and 
said to have been founded by St. Ladislaw, was the church 
designed for the coronation of the Hungarian kings, but has 
no architectural attractions. Near the bridge of boats is a 
slight artificial elevation, walled in and closed by a gate, 
called the Konigsberg. On this the new king, after his cor- 
onation, rode his horse, brandishing the sword of St. Stephen 
towards the four points of the compass to evince his deter- 



HUNGARIAN' AND CITY LIFE. 523 

miiiation to defend his country from enemies from whatever 
quarter. 

The plains of Hungary, which you reach after Pressburg, 
are fertile but dreary-looking, all their towns and villages 
seeming to belong to a past age. The river is full of mills, 
made by anchoring two boats in the stream, building a small, 
rude house on one, placing a wheel between the two, and 
submitting it to the action of the current. The thing is very 
simple and cheap, and I am surprised some of the Western 
farmers on the White, Missouri, Tennessee, and Arkansas 
rivers have not done something of the same sort. 

The Danube is often divided into several arms, making isl- 
ands, some of them very large, as the Grosse, which is 55 miles 
long and 33 broad, and contains as many as a hundred 
villages. Gonyo, a village almost entirely of thatched houses, 
is at the extremity of the Lesser Schiitt, and near by is Raab 
(Gyor in Hungarian), a city of 17,000 inhabitants. Just 
above Komorn, at some distance from the river, is the rich 
Benedictine Abbey of Martinsberg, which, being on a height, 
is plainly visible from the steamboat. 

The ancient town of Komorn is a very strong fortress (po}> 
ulation 18,000) with extensive tetes-de-pont on the bank of 
the Waag, which there falls into the Danube. The fortifica- 
tions, greatly extended during the last sixty years, were 
originally planned and built by Matthew Corvinus. 

Further down is a low range of hills covered with vine- 
yards. Gran, near the junction of the river Gran with the 
Danube, is conspicuous for the dome of its cathedral — some- 
what resembling St. Peter's — on an elevation and overlooking 
the town of 12,000 people. In that neighborhood the channel 
contracts, running through porphyry and limestone rocks 
which make the scenery more picturesque. The old walls of 
the fortress of Wissegrad extends down to the river. The 
castle was destroyed by the Turks, and its fortifications after- 
ward dismantled by the Emperor Leopold. The Hungarian 
kings occupied it as early as the eleventh century, and it is 
still an interesting ruin. The hills now recede ; the river 



524 CHARACTERISTICS OF TEE RIVER. 

turns south ; is divided into two arms ; passes the town of 
Waitzen, and, as the banks become flatter, you see rafts, 
barges, and local steamboats, showing the approach to Pesth 
and Buda (Ofen). These with their lofty structures, the fine 
suspension bridge, the fortress, the royal palace, and the 
Blocksberg, as they come fully into view, recall Prague and 
the Heradschin, and make a beautiful picture as the sun is 
sinking, and flooding the cities, the river, and landscape with 
purple, crimson, and gold. 

The Danube combines many of the striking features of the 
upper and lower Mississippi, the Ohio, the St. Lawrence, and 
the Hudson, with historic associations and medigeval ruins 
which they cannot have. To enjoy it completely one should 
be well acquainted with history, and be able to recall the ex- 
travagant fables of the famous Lied. The Danube is like the 
Rhine, the Elbe, and the Moselle, and with its islands, rapids, 
mountains, vineyards, green slopes, and picturesque ruins, 
may be said to excel any one of them in variety. I have often 
heard Strauss and his band play " The Beautiful Blue 
Danube Waltz " at the Volksgarten. The blueness of the 
river is a poetic fiction ; for it is very brown at all seasons of 
the year. Still the muddy Danube would not sound well, and 
melody must be consulted in the arrangement of music. 

Below Pesth and Buda the river loses its varied and at- 
tractive features. In Transylvania it runs through an im- 
mense plain, — only 400 feet above the sea level, without any 
undulations. Large streams with marshy banks flow into it 
through flat land interspersed with stagnant pools and sandy 
wastes. Below Moldavia it is for sixty or seventy miles a 
succession of rapids and shallows, bordered by rocks and 
sandbanks, and in Servia it is interrupted by three great 
rapids, the lowest of which, known as the Iron Gate cataract, 
rushes in a narrow channel through stupendous rocks, ending 
in eddies, wliirlpools, and a series of small falls. So it con- 
tinues, spreading and spreading, the banks growing more and 
more marshy, and often overflowed, until, largely increasing 
its volume, it is lost at last in the Black Sea. 




CHAPTER LXVI. 

AUSTRIA AND HUNGARY. 

•lENNA is very handsomely laid out, and is 
hardly equaled by any capital of Europe in 
the magnificence of its buildings and its prin- 
cipal streets. I was not prepared to see a city so 
fine materially, and, I may add, so uninteresting 
mentally. It has galleries of art, various collec- 
tions, beautiful gardens, excellent music, and yet 
it seems tiresome. There is something oppressing in the at- 
mospliere which made me desirous to get away as soon as I 
had seen all its noticeable features. Vienna is called a Ger- 
man Paris : but it is far more German than Parisian. The 
citizens dress well, are externally polite and painfully decor- 
ous ; but they appear to a stranger supremely dull. No one 
appears to enjoy himself or herself. Vivacity is unknown, 
and animation interdicted. In the first place, the hotels and 
restaurants are very poor, which is a great dissatisfaction to 
strangers. Secondly, nobody seems to have any acquaint- 
ance with the city, and if he has, he cannot convey his intel- 
ligence clearly. Thirdly, and mainly, nobody knows anything 
about anything, and seems absorbed in evolving stupidity from 
his inner consciousness. 

The fiaker-drivers, after you have explained to them for 
half an hour where you want to go, will pretend to under- 
stand, and then drive you in the wrong direction. If you 
wish to visit a church they will take you to a beer garden ; if 
a picture gallery, to the police office ; if a palace, to the rail- 
way station ; if the bankers, to th€ cemetery. It may be sup- 

(525) 



526 VIENNA. 

posed this is done to get another fare, but it is not, for 
the fellows hurry off as soon as they have set you down. 
They are dishonest enough — fully as much so as their intel- 
ligence will admit ; but they have not sufficient ingenuity to 
make a florin by a trick. They really don't know the differ- 
ence between the Arsenal and the Belvidere, the Ambras Col- 
lection and the Albertina, the Prater and the Polytechnic 
Institute. 

The waiters are no better. They are dumber than the 
Pyramids. Ask them for a glass of beer even, and they look 
as perplexed as if you had demanded they should solve the 
Schleswig-Holstein question. Order a cup of coffee, and they 
repeat the phrase wonderingly, as though you had given them 
an Egyptian riddle. 

This is almost an exact transcript (translated) of a dia- 
logue I had with a waiter in a fashionable caf^ : 

" Have you cigars ? " 

"Cigars?" 

" Yes ; good cigars." 

"Good?" 

" Yes, yes ; good cigars." 

"Cigars?" 

" Certainly. Don't you understand what a cigar is ? " 

" Understand ? " 

" Do tell me if you have any good cigars." 

" Cigars, did you say ? " 

" Yes ; c-i-g-a-r-s ; you know what that means, I suppose." 

" Oh yes ; I understand very well. " 

" Then get me some at once." 

" Certainly, right away." 

The fellow was gone fifteen minutes, and came back with 
an ancient almanac. 

The women in Vienna are the comeliest Germans I have 
seen. They have finer features, better figures, and show more 
taste in dress, than is common among the Teutonic nations. 
They look like the French, but are without their tact, quick- 
ness, or perception. Their manners are good, but negative. 



A SUPERB CITY. 527 

They do nothing to offend, but they have no power to charm. 
They all so act after a pattern, that one might infer they had 
been drilled by a sergeant of the Imperial Guards. They do 
not appear to have any emotional life, and yet there are, no 
doubt, many fierce volcanoes under those fair mounts of snow. 
There is a Vesuvius in every woman's being, and there is 
always some man — usually some men — who can cause an 
eruption which may be delightful or terrible in its consequen- 
ces. 

The Inner City, as it is called, is filled with stately build- 
ings, fine churches, imposing bronze monuments, handsome 
gardens, and elaborately laid out grounds. The architectural 
display is extraordinary, and I cannot but think the deplora- 
ble financial condition of the country is partially attributable 
to the lavish expenditure. There are miles of houses which 
would be called palaces anywhere else, and acres upon acres 
of the most valuable land are devoted to squares and promen- 
ades. 

The New Opera House, which has been recently opened, is 
a specimen of the imperial mode of doing things there. Ex- 
cepting the unfinished Opera House in Paris, the Karnthner- 
thor is by long odds the finest in the world. Naples, Milan, 
Berlin, St Petersburg, London, have nothing like it in com- 
pleteness, extent, or richness. It bristles with gilding, carv- 
ing, frescoes, and marbles, and cost, I understand, twenty 
millions of florins — about ten millions of dollars. The great 
objection to it, as to all the Continental theatres, is its total 
lack of ventilation ; the boxes being so enclosed that not a 
breath of fresh air can get into the -house, even if it had an 
order for admission from the Emperor himself. 

The sights of the City are numerous, but, with some 
exceptions, not very interesting. The collections of pictures, 
as the Czernin and Harrach, are inferior, though the Liech- 
tenstien and Belvedere, particularly the latter, are very good. 
The Ambras collection and the antiquities in the lower Bel- 
vedere, the cabinets of coins, and minerals, and natural his- 
tory, are what every European traveler has already become 
familiar with. 



528 "^^E GARDEN CONCERTS. 

The churches are hardly worth the trouble of inspecting, 
St. Stephen's excepted, which is a fine specimen of Gothic, 
recalling the Cologne Cathedral, though much smaller. The 
tombs of the Emperor Frederic the Fourth and Prince Eugene 
of Savoy are interesting, of course ; but the others are either 
apocryphal or associated with superstition. The tower, 430 
feet high, commands a fine view, including the battlefields of 
Lobau, Wagram, and Essling. 

The cemeteries are not remarkable, but as they contain the 
graves of Gluck, Schubert, Mozart, and Beethoven, they 
will attract everyone who loves the memory of the great 
composers, and feels that their music has made it immortal. 
The Treasury is very rich, abounding in ornaments, ivory ear- 
rings, sculptures, precious stones, and countless curiosities. 
As might be expected, you are shown the lance that pierced 
'the side of Christ, and the nails and fragments of the cross, 
which long ago ceased to interest me, as I have seen enough 
of them to make a small lumber-pile and set up a respectable 
hardware establishment. The sword, crown, girdle, alb, 
stole, dalmatica, and sceptre of Charlemagne (no one who 
pays the full fee is obliged to believe them veritable) are ex- 
hibited, having been brought from his tomb at Aix la 
Chapelle. The jewels are handsome and of great value, par- 
ticularly a diamond (once the property of Charles the Bold), 
weighing one hundred and thirty-five carats, and an emerald, 
cut as a vase, weighing nearly 2,800 carats. 

The garden concerts are among the most agreeable resorts 
in Vienna. They are given almost nightly at the Volks- 
garten ; on the Burgglacis ; at Dommaycr's in Hietzing, and 
at Rudolfsheim, by Strauss, Weghuber, Sperl, and other 
leaders of note. Some of the gardens are beautifully laid 
out, and attended by the best class of people. For fifty to 
eighty kreutzers you can hear all the great composers rendered 
by the ablest musicians. Not a few of the women in attend- 
ance are quite handsome — very different from the ordinary 
German type — and almost all dress as they would at the 
opera or an evening party. They would appear to more ad- 



ENTIRONS OF TEE CITY, 529 

vantage, to my mind, if they would eat less, and be more in- 
different to beer. I should suppose that Mozart might be ap- 
preciated without cold ham and cabbage, and that Mendels- 
sohn could be enjoyed apart from' brown bread and cheese. 

The Prater, tlie favorite park of the Viennese, is intersected 
by five avenues, of which the Wurstelprater is the haunt of 
the lower classes, who, on holidays and Sundays, enjoy them- 
selves most vigorously. During the season the display of 
equipages in the Prater is brilliant. 

The environs of the city, as Schonbrunn (where the Duke 
of Reichstadt is buried), Laxenburg, the Briihl and Baden, are 
exceedingly pleasant, and easily reached by omnibus or rail- 
way. 

Vienna is growing rapidly, and now has a population, in- 
cluding the suburbs, of 670,000. It is said to have been 
originally an ancient settlement of the Celts or Wends ; then 
it became a Roman town, Marcus Aurelius having died there 
A. D. 180. It fell successively into the power of the Huns, 
the Rugii, and Heruli, the Ostrogoths, and other barbarous 
hordes. In 1276 it was taken from the King of Bohemia by 
Rudolph of Hapsburg, and has been governed by that family 
ever since. In 1519 the Emperor Maximilian I. invited the 
Kings of Poland, Hungary, and Bohemia to a banquet in the 
imperial city, and so arranged the marriages of his children 
that Bohemia, Hungary, and Moravia fell to the crown of 
Austria ; thus gaining, as a verse of the time ran, by the in- 
fluence of Venus what had long been denied to Mars. 

Pesth is thoroughly Hungarian. The streets have Hunga- 
rian names, and the majority of the people are unable to 
speak German, or even to understand the simplest question 
in that language, as I found in making inquiries about public 
buildings or well-known localities. The Hungarians, or Mag- 
yars, as they prefer to be called, are evidently a different race 
from the Austrians, with whom they have little sympathy, 
and for whom they have no affinity. They keep up all their 
traditions and ancient customs, and have their own costume, 
still wearing top boots, soft hats (turned up all round and 
34 



530 PESTH AND THE HUNGARIANS.. 

adorned with feathers) , and embroidered garments, with which 
Kossuth and his suite made us so familiar twenty years ago. 
They frequent their own cafes; have their own newspapers, 
their own amusements, and their own society. They seem to 
have very little, if any, association with the Austrians, albeit 
the latter have adopted a very conciliatory course since the 
revolution of 1848, and the title of their sovereign is Emperor 
of Austria and King of Hungary. Many of the Hungarians 
have entered the army in which there are regiments, com- 
posed exclusively of Magyars, and their patriotism and na- 
tional self-love have been so adroitly appealed to that they 
are now considered very loyal to Francis Joseph. 

The Hungarians are less cultivated and enlightened than 
the Austrians, but they are quicker, intenser, and naturally 
more intelligent. They are more warlike, too, and with equal 
advantages would be likely to be victorious over the dominant 
nation of slower mind and more sluggish blood. They are like 
the Poles — brave, restless, and impetuous, but have not ad- 
vanced very far in the arts of peace, and have done little to 
develop their country. They have much of the old barbaric 
blood, and seem to prefer change and turbulence to settled 
conditions and the spirit of progress. 

Their peasantry are very much as they were a hundred 
years ago. They wear the same half Oriental costumes ; have 
a barbaric fondness for ornaments, and are delighted with 
trifles. But under all this is a strong, fierce spirit — that of 
the ancient Huns — which will always be formidable in war. 

Pesth is the most important commercial town in Hungary ; 
has numerous handsome buildings, several fine churches, in- 
cluding a handsome Synagogue, a national museum, the val- 
uable Esterhazy collection of pictures, and many objects of 
interest. It has obtained all its importance during the last 
seventy or eighty years, and bids fair to become a rival of 
Vienna. It is the seat of a university, which was removed 
Iiere from Tyrnau in 1780, and has a thousand students. 

The four annual fairs held in the city are the events of 
Pesth. They fmiiish the greater part of the Hungarians with 



THE ANCIENT CITY OF BUD A. 53 1 

the means of living. They bring honey, wax, wool, raw 
hides, and slibowitza — a species of brandy made from plums 
— and sell these articles at very remunerative rates. The 
fairs are times of great festivity, and sometimes not unlike 
the once famous Donnybroo.k in the scenes accompanying 
them. The Hungarians have a fondness for strong drink, 
particularly for their slibowitza, and on those occasions they 
often get drunk and fight. The liquor makes them very pa- 
triotic, and they frequently express their opinion of their Aus- 
trian rulers in exceedingly emphatic terms. 

It is said that the seeds of the revolution of 1848 were 
sown at one of the fairs. Francis Joseph has entertained the 
idea of suppressing the four annuals, but he has learned that 
it would not be good policy. To abolish the fairs would, I 
believe, bring all Hungary into open revolt. The slibowitza 
I drank a little of to try it. It is rather sweet, but very fiery 
and deceptions. Small as the quantity was, it affected my 
brain, and when I lay down at night — ten hours after — I 
dreamed of killing my grandmother in jest. I don't believe 
the Hungarian brandy exercises a pacific influence. 

One of my objects in visiting Hungary was to get some of 
the Imperial Tokay, of which I had heard so much. It has 
the reputation of being the best wine made, and a small bottle 
costs ten florins — about five dollars in gold. It is sweet and 
strong, something like a liqueur, but not particularly good. 
The truth is, there is no delicious wine in Europe, or anywhere 
else. The ideal wine, like other ideals, can never be found. 

Buda, or Ofen, on the other side of the Danube, is connected 
with Pesth by a fine suspension bridge. It has but fifty-six 
thousand people, nearly all Germans, and yet it is twenty 
times as old as the latter city. It was once a Roman colony ; 
was conquered by Sultan Soliman in the sixteenth century, 
and remained in the power of the Turks for a century and a 
half. 

The only reminiscence of its Mussulmanic history is a 
small Turkish mosque, of octagonal form, with a turret and 
crescent, erected over the grave of a noted monk, who was 



532 THE FATHER OF ROSES. 

called the " Father of Roses." I am sorry he is dead, for he 
is much needed in Buda, which is not at all fragrant. If he 
were to be resuscitated, he would find few of his children, and 
little to remind him of them. When the Continentalists have 
any fathers of roses they ought to keep them alive as long as 
possible — that is, if the fathers have any perfuming or disin- 
fecting power. The Continentalists have any number of saints 
embalmed ; but the air they breathe is not embalmed in the 
least. I wish most heartily it might be. 

Opposite the suspension bridge rises the castle hill, through 
which a very long tunnel leads to the Horvathgarten, in which 
theatrical and other performances are given in the open air. 
The Fortress, with the handsome royal chateau, is on the top 
of the hill about which the town is built. The Hentzi-Platz 
contains the monument to General Hentzi and other officers 
who died in defending the fortress against the Hungarians. 
From the summit of the Blocksberg is a fine view of the river 
and the towns on either side. Though Buda is hardly one 
hundred and fifty miles from Vienna, it has always seemed 
to me very far from the more frequented cities and centers of 
civilization, possibly because I have associated it with King 
Etzel, or Attila, who is supposed to have had his stronghold 
and headquarters where the ancient city now stands. 




CHAPTER LXVII. 

'DOWN IN THE WIELICZKA SALT MINES. 

HE most celebrated and productive salt mines 
in the whole world are those of Wieliczka, in 
Galicia or Austrian Poland, ten miles from 
Cracow. My main object in going to that city 
was to visit the salt mines, which you can do any 
day by oljtaining a ticket of admission at the 
Chateau of Wieliczka, and by the payment of a 
I certain number of kreutzers to the officials and the workmen. 
I The mines, connected with those of Bochnia, the next 
} railway station, are said to be entered by eleven shafts ; but 
the principal one, which I went down, is generally known by 
way of distinction as the entrance shaft. The greatest depth 
of the mines is eight hundred feet, though it is sometimes 
stated to be over a thousand. They have seven different 
levels or stories, one above the other, connected by countless 
I passages, flights of steps and bridges. Never having been 
j down in a salt mine, I had some little curiosity to know how 
j the descent was made. I very soon found out. After being 
placed in charge of two very rough-looking fellows — they 
] seemed as if they might have lived under-ground all their 
' lives, and only to have escaped to the surface of the earth at 
j that particular time — I was taken to the mouth of the pit. 
' So I was told at least, but I could see nothing of the great 
hole in the ground for which I was anxiously looking. Be- 
fore me, however, was a piece of machinery resembling a 
complicated windlass, and while I was wondering what it was 
for, a large trap-door was removed, revealing the mouth 

of the shaft. 

(533) 



534 



DOWN THE SHAFT. 



My conductors lighted their torches — they appeared very 
much Uke old-fashioned lard oil lamps — and motioned to me 
that they were all ready. I supposed from their appearance 
that they were Poles, and as I have never been very fluent in 




DOWN THE SHAFT. 



the Polish tongue, I fancied they would not be able to con- 
vey to me a great deal of intelligence. I discovered later, 
however, that they knew some German, and as I knew a little 
also, we got along quite comfortably. I found that the ap- 
paratus for letting us dOwn in the mine was a species of iron 



SALT CHAMBERS. 535 

basket, in which we sat with our legs hanging outside, and 
holding to ropes fastened above to a ring encircling an iron 
shaft. This ring slipped smoothly down the shaft, carrying 
us, clinging to the ropes, down with it. The entrance to the 
mines was something like a well, though rather square than 
round ; and as we sped downward, the feeble light of the 
torches rather increased than lessened the darkness, and 
laashing fitfully, and throwing shadows here and there, made 
it seem as if the ropes that held us had snapped asunder. 
But I had no fears of that kind— indeed, I doubt if any well- 
balanced man has such apprehensions of absurd possibilities 
as travelers and adventure-seekers are inclined to represent. 
I had no idea of the depth, which appeared much greater 
than it was from the silence and the darkness that surrounded 
me. I did not know but we might be going to the lowest depth 
of the mines, and when we stopped in our downward course, 
I was surprised to learn that we were Uttle more than two 
hundred feet below the surface of the earth. 

Then our real journey began. One of the torch-bearers 
went before, and the other behind me, as we walked over a 
wooden bridge, and down a flight of stairs, and through sev- 
eral passages, all cut out of what appeared to be solid rock 
veined with quartz. I asked the guides to stop, and Hfting 
up a torch, saw that what I had taken for quartz was rock 
salt, and that most of the rock was green salt, as it is called, 
being largely mixed with clay. 

After walking up and down, right and left, and left and 
right, we entered a considerable cavity, which reminded me 
' somewhat of the Star Chamber in the Mammoth Cave. This 
had been hewn out by the workmen, I was informed, and 
after they had gotten all the salt contained in the stratum, 
they had abandoned it for another field of operations. I no- 
ticed in the chamber several crosses, an altar, and a number 
of images— intended, I presume, for saints— which were made 
of rock salt, and which looked beautiful while the light of the 
torches fell upon them. 

We went on again, over more bridges, down more flights 



536 ^^^ WORKING WITH THEIR EYES SHUT. 

of steps, through more passages, until we reached what the 
guides styled the river. It wasn't enough of a river to do 
any harm, however, and better deserved the name of a pool. 
It was just such a river as the Lethe or the Styx in the great 
Kentucky cave, and we crossed it in just such a boat — a 
muddy scow, which might have been built in the earliest in- 
fancy of navigation. The guides in a few seconds pushed the 
boat over with poles, and we got out on another bridge, and 
began descending one of the longest and worst series of steps 
I had encountered. At the bottom we branched off into a 
crooked passage, at the end of which was still another tire- 
some and rickety flight of stairs. I believed we were get- 
ting further and further into the bowels of the earth, and so 
we were, as I learned from one of the grim fellows, who said 
we were some four hundred feet under ground. I examined 
the walls about me, and could plainly perceive that they had 
more of a crystal appearance than they had had ; the crystal, 
of course, being the veins of rock salt. 

One thing which had astonished me was, that we had met 
so few workmen. We had passed them here and there, 
using pickaxes and crowbars, but nothing like the number I 
had expected to find. The reason, as I learned by inquiry, 
was, that the parts through which we had gone had been 
mostly worked out, and the laborers had been removed to 
lower and richer strata. About twenty minutes later, we ob- 
served several men making a new passage. They had just 
begun it, and were lying down on their backs, and striking 
their picks into the salt overhead. One might believe that 
the falling particles would have destroyed their sight, and so 
they would no doubt, had not the men drawn a kind of coarse 
hat over their faces, and shut their eyes, while they employ- 
ed their implements actively. This was the first instance I 
had observed of men doing work effectively with their eyes 
shut. 

After crossing several more pools or rivers — there are at 
least twenty of these, formed by the percolations of water 
through the strata — we entered a very large, open space, some 



DAZZLING EFFECT OF FIRE WORKS. 



537 



four hundred feet broad, and at least a hundred feet high, 
known as the Chamber of Letow ; and fifteen minutes later, 




another of still greater dimensions, the Chamber of Michel- 
awic. These were fitted up like chapels, having altars, can- 
dlesticks, statues, chairs, thrones, and various kinds of ornar 
ments, all cut out of rock salt. 

Before I left Cracow, I had purchased some fire-works — 
blue and red lights, serpents, and Catharine wheels — as I had 
been advised to do if I were going into the mines. I did not 
have, I confess, a very clear idea as to what I was going to 



533 -1 REAL FA IR Y S CENE. 

do with them. But when I was inside of those large cham- 
bers, and after one of the guides had lighted a number of 
lamps on an altar, I was very glad indeed I was pro\ided with 
the fire-works. The lamps had a remarkable effect, and the 
burning of the red and blue lights transformed the chamber 
into a grotto of diamonds. The spectacle was really splendid. 
From every part of the walls, with their uneven surfaces, were 
reflected again and again the rays of light, until the place 




ni mill -i"- 



was a blaze of radiance and glory. It was more like a fairy 
scene than anything else, and the thought that it was six 



THE INFERXAL LAKE. 539 

hundred feet or more under ground, amid natural darkness 
and silence and desolation, added to the wonder of the vision. 
I should never have believed that two such simple things as 
light and rock-salt, acting upon each other, could produce 
such a miracle of splendor. The serpents and Catharine 
wheels appeared to great advantage after all the lights were 
either extinguished or removed. I certainly never enjoyed 
so much such a slender stock of fire-works. The darkness 
was so intense as to be almost tangible, and when the ser- 
pents and wheels were whizzing through it, it seemed as if 
the whole night of the earth were compressed into that small 
and pitchy compass. 

The larger of the chambers, Michelawic, — it is over a hund- 
red feet square, — is dedicated, I miderstand, to St. Anthony. 
Once every year, on the third of July, a grand mass is cele- 
brated in the chamber, or chapel, as it is usually considered, 
and afterward a banquet is given of the most sumptuous char- 
acter. Whenever any members of the imperial family visit 
the mines, the most extensive preparations are made to re- 
ceive them. The principal passages and chambers are bril- 
liantly illuminated ; the workmen are given a holiday, and 
festivals are held, in which they participate. These are long- 
remembered by the poor laborers, who then receive gratuities, 
and have what they regard as a most pleasm-able time. 

The Infernal Lake — a large pool of water some seven hund- 
red feet long, three hundred feet wide, and forty deep — ^par- 
ticularly impressed me. I went out upon it in a boat, and 
burned some of the fire-works, while a number of the work- 
men awoke the echoes of the dreary place by crying " Gluck 
Auf, Gluck Auf," ("Welcome, Welcome), until the cavern 
seemed peopled with invisible imps and demons screaming 
with sardonic satire to the last victim they had ensnared. 
There certainly was something bitterly ironical in the idea of 
associating that gloomy pool and pit with a welcome of any 
sort. I have been told that the workmen sometimes show 
the words "Gluck Auf" in illuminated letters in an arch at 
the lower end of the lake ; but they did not do so on the oc- 



540 



A DEMON CHORUS. 



casion of my visit — whether because they were less enterpris- 
ing than usual, or because they thought a single sight-seer 




THE INFERNAL LAKE. 



would not remunerate them sufficiently for their trouble, I 
have never been able to determine. 

After getting back to the land again, twenty or thirty of the 
fellows who had taken part in the diabolical chorus of " Gluck 
Auf," came up to me, repeating the words, and holding out 
their hands. The guides swore at them in a vile gibberish, 
and made a feint of driving them away. I understood this 
as a mere ruse, and gave the unfortunates the kreutzers they 
were so desirous to 2;ct. 



QUALITY AND QUANTITY OF SALT 541 

During the remainder of the journey, I saw a great many 
of the workmen, who were getting out the salt very much as 
coal is gotten out — with bars and picks. In the lowest re- 
gions, where we then were, the salt was much purer, being 
sometimes in solid blocks as clear and white as crystal. The 
lal)orers were muscular and stalwart fellows, with very little 
intelligence in their faces generally, and their features for the 
most part coarse and harsh. They were usually stripped to 
the waist, and many of them were entirely naked, except a 
cloth about their loins. Nearly all the workmen, I believe, 
are Poles, poor and ignorant, of course, who pass their lives 
in the mines, toiling night and day for barely enough to 
keep body and soul together. Their pay varies from thirty 
kreutzersto a florin a day, very few earning the latter amount. 
I was constantly importuned for trinkgeld, and having pro- 
vided myself with considerable copper coin, I was astonished 
to see with what delight two or three kreutzers were received. 
The salt varies a great deal in quality. The so-called green 
salt contains six or seven per cent, of clay, which destroys its 
transparency. Another sort, spiza^ is crystalline, but mixed 
with sand, while the perfectly pure, szyhik, is found in large 
crystallized masses. The general yield of the mines is, I 
think, about 500,000 tons annually, valued at twenty florins 
or ten dollars per ton, making the revenue|5,000,000. When 
the mines were discovered is not known, though it is certain 
that they have been worked nearly nine centuries. 

After spending three or four hours in the mines, and seeing 
all the features worth seeing, I retraced my steps, and went 
out the same way I came in. I might have passed two or 
three weeks under-ground, if I had traversed all the passages 
and excavations, whose combined length is over three hundred 
miles. The extent of the mines from east to west is about 
thirty-two hundred yards, and from north to south fourteen 
hundred yards. It is easy to examine the mines satisfactorily 
in two hours, if one be in haste ; but the time occupied, how 
ever long, is not likely to be regretted. 




CHAPTER LXVIII. 

HOLLAND. 

^^OLLAND is eminently a land of honest labor 
|m and steady habits. Much like Germany in 
1^ many respects, it is very different from it in 
others, and has qualities and peculiarities that 
are entirely its own. The name Holland, mean- 
ing the marshy land, is well bestowed, as the 
country has been almost entirely formed by the 
mud of its three great rivers — the Rhine, the Mouse, and the 
Scheldt — mixed with the sand banks thrown up by the ocean 
at their capacious mouths. Naturally a great morass, it has 
been made not only habitable, but extremely fertile by the 
excessive industry and unfailing perseverance of its people. 
As is well known, the sea coast, where it is not lined by the 
upheaval of vast sand banks, is protected by immense dykes 
built partly of granite brought from Norway, and partly of 
timbers, fagots, turf, and clay. These dykes or embankments 
— usually 70 feet broad at the base, 30 feet high, and wide 
enough at the top for a roadway — have been built at a cost es- 
timated not to be far from 12,000,000,000, and are main- 
tained at an annual expense of over ^2,000,000, 

Everybody knows what fierce and heroic wars the Nether- 
lands waged with the Spaniards for their religion and their 
independence, and every one can see in the two separate 
kingdoms of to-day the energy and determination which made 
the ancestors of the present population such sturdy soldiers 
and such unflinching patriots. Belgium has lost the name 
of Netherlands, which still clings to and is the official title of 
Holland. No wonder the Hollanders are warmly prejudiced 



ARNHEIM. 543 

in favor of their country, since for many generations they 
have been perpetually struggling to keep it from rapacious 
enemies and the inexorable sea. 

The little kingdom is very different from what it was in its 
days of naval supremacy, when Admiral Yon Tromp, with 
brooms at his mast-head, sailed, insolent and victorious, in 
the English Channel, and threatened to sweep the British 
from the seas. Its historic glory has been dimmed, and it 
has lost many of its rich possessions ; but it is still a very in- 
teresting country, and its 3,500,000 of inhabitants illustrate 
what industry, sobriety, and thrift can accomplish under cir- 
cumstances the most adverse. 

The first town in which I tarried, after crossing the Ger- 
man frontier, was Arnheim, capital of the province Gelder- 
land, situated on the right bank of the Rhine. Arnheim has 
a population of 28,000 or 30,000, is very ancient, and re- 
nowned in history as the place where Sir Phillip Sydney died 
in 1586, from a wound received at the battle of Zutphen. I\ 
is very well built, and has a church, in which the Dukes o\ 
Gelderland are buried ; but is chiefly noted as the residence 
of many of the Dutch nobility and wealthy merchants, whose 
handsome country houses and gardens adjacent to the city 
give it an air of remarkable comfort and pleasantness. Many 
of the gardens in the suburbs are elaborately laid out, but 
with a regularity and precision that enforce an air of stiffiiess 
and artificiality which, however much admired by the natives 
is not quite agreeable to a stranger fond of variety. The city, 
for its size, is the wealthiest in Holland, the fortunes of some 
of its citizens being estimated as high as $10,000,000 or 
$12,000,000. Little business is done there beyond a mere 
local trade, as the town is given over in a great measure to 
the recreation and enjoyment of the rich residents who have 
retired from active life. Consequently merry-making and 
pleasure-seeking, though in a very sober way, are the chief 
pursuits of fashionable Arnheim, which at all favorable sea- 
sons lounges and smokes, drinks and talks, dines and dances, 
according to the exactions of the busy tyrant known as so- 
ciety- """ ~' 



544 UTRECHT. 

Utreclit, also on the Rhine, where the Yecht hranches off, 
is, with its 58,000 people, an important city carrying on con- 
siderable trade, by means of the rivers and the two canals by 
which it is traversed, and across which are 28 stone bridges. 
Its manufactures of cotton, woollen, and plush — the last is 
called Utrecht velvet — are extensive and profitable. The old 
walls have been pulled down and converted into pleasant 
walks, and beyond the walls is a fine promenade, the Malie- 
baan planted with eight rows of lime trees, bordered by hand- 
some gardens, and having several foot and carriage-ways. 
When Louis XIY. was ravaging the country he admired the 
trees so much that he gave special orders that they should be 
spared. In the audience hall of the University was signed, 
in 1579, the act of confederation declaring the Seven United 
Provinces independent of Spain, and in the British Minister's 
house, which has been replaced by a barrack, the famous 
treaty of Utrecht ending the war of the Spanish succession 
was signed in 1713. 

The Cathedral, the tower on the one side and the church on 
the other, is the most noted building, and from the top of the 
tower, 390 feet high, a most commanding view is obtained. 

The Dutch have singular places of abode, I thought, when 
I learned that the sexton of the church lived with his family 
in the tower, about 200 feet above the ground. He has re- 
sided there, he told me, for many years, and in that airy hab- 
itation all his children have been born. He is a thorough 
Hollander, industrious, contented, domestic, and supernatu- 
rally fond of his pipe, which he often carries to bed with him. 

Six miles from Utrecht is a Moravian colony, and near it 
the mound erected by 3,000 soldiers, under the command 
of Marshal Grammont, in memory of the day on which Bo- 
naparte was crowned Emperor. 

Traveling through Holland I was struck by the difference 
between the general aspect of that country and any other in 
Europe. Its surface is so flat, and its canals and windmills 
— these are said to number 12,000 in all, with sails on an av- 
erage 8 feet broad and 100 feet long — are of such regular and 



LAND OF WINDMILLS. 545 

constant recurrence that the scenery would be monotonous 
and tedious but for its unique character. If Don Quixote had 
traveled through Holland, instead of Spain, to fight wind- 
mills, which he mistook for cruel giants, he would have found 
his imaginary foemen on every hand, and could hardly have 
hoped, even with his stout heart and crazed brain, to have 
come off victorious against such tremendous odds. I have 
known persons who thought that the Dutch depended upon 
windmills because they were so conservative and economical. 
This is all a mistake. They use windmills largely for drain- 
ing purposes, as a substitute for steam and water power. They 
could not have steam without wood or coal, which they would 
be compelled to import, and their sluggish canals and rivers 
have not current enough to set in motion the wheel of a toy 
mill. It is not much trouble or much expense to make four 
long sails, and the wind, which sweeps from the ocean over 
the deltas of the great rivers, besides costing nothing, is 
in almost perpetual supply. 

An air of industry and thrift pervades everything. I can 
hardly remember to have seen a single idle Dutchman. He 
is always busy about something, however trifling and unim- 
portant, that something may appear to others. His fields are 
well drained and carefully cultivated ; his meadows rich, and 
his gardens productive as labor and art can make them. Beg- 
gars and drunkards are almost unknown in the Netherlands, 
where everybody minds his own alBfairs, and deems it the first 
of duties to take care of himself. His life for the most part, 
particularly if a town resident, is sedentary, except in winter,, 
when skating and sledding become absorbing amusements- 
The climate is much colder than in similar latitudes in Great 
Britain, and the months of December, January, February, and 
often March, are very severe. The canals and rivers are thea 
solidly frozen, and, inland commerce being entirely sus- 
pended, many persons have leisure for recreation, which under 
different circumstances a conscientious practicality would not 
allow them to take. Very little can be said, by the bye, in 
favor of the climate, which varies from 23° below zero to 
35 



546 DISAGREEABLE CLIMATE. 

102° above. I presume it is healthy — it is certainly disa- 
greeable enough to be, for the Dutch as a nation are very 
ruddy and robust ; but it is not attractive nor agreeable at 
any season, being damp, raw, chilly or cold during eight 
months, and hot and unwholesome during the remaining four 
months of the year. 

The Dutch, who are models of patience, never show it more 
than in their amateur inland fishing, a favorite pastime, if it 
may be called such, which I have always supposed must be 
followed from principle rather than for any definite purpose. 
When I first went to Holland I was under the impression that 
certain festivals were observed by the casting of hooks and 
lines into any attainable body of water which required to be 
watched from daylight until dark. I fancied that I had ar- 
rived on those festival days, but as week after week went on, 
and there was no variation in the water -watching and 
pole-and-line devotion, I made inquiry concerning the singular 
custom, and learned to my surprise that all those eccentric 
Dutchmen labored under the hallucination that they were fish- 
ing. So they were, and have been for generations no doubt, 
but catching is beyond their wildest conjecture. 

Though having only slender sympathy with quaint Sir 
Isaac's special weakness,! began after awhile to feel an interest 
myself in the national angling. Wandering about the country 
and through the towns, I never failed to pause and fix my at- 
tention upon any man who held a pole with a line at the other 
end, dropped into the water. I did this persistently and ha- 
bitually, and never yet have I beheld any single Dutchman or 
combination of Dutchmen catch a fish even of the most insig- 
nificant kind. I am bound to believe that the Hollanders 
who seldom work without a purpose must be sometimes pisca- 
torially rewarded ; but this is a matter of faith rather than 
of reason. My natural and skeptical self will insist that not 
a fish is to be found in all the canals and rivers of the Neth- 
erlands ; but if there be any such oviparous vertibrate animal 
-it is too wise to bite, or too ingenious to be caught. 

I know there are Dutch herring by the million ; that the 



FISHING ON PRINCIPLE. 547 

fishery has been called the Dutch gold mine, and 1 have seen 
them brought by the wagon load into Amsterdam (the com- 
mon people say its foundations are laid on herring bones), 
but they are captured on the coasts, and have no relatives, I 
am sure in the interior waters. 

I observed a burly fellow fishing one day in a canal, and 
noticed with astonishment that he seemed to have a bite. He 
evidently did not expect anything so phenomenal. His stolid 
face flushed, his dull eye sparkled. His pipe dropped from 
his mouth, and I imagined from his general appearance he 
Was about to have a fit, caused by so unheard-of an occur- 
rence as the actual biting of a fish. I waited and watched. 
There was no mistake about it. "With my own eyes I saw 
the cork go under several times. The angler had by this 
time grown crimson. His phlegmatic frame trembled with ex- 
citement ; he leaned forward in anxious expectation. Then 
he drew his line obliquely to the left, and in a few seconds a 
strange-looking object flew through the air, and was landed 
on the quay. I ran to the spot, unwilling to quit the country 
without being recompensed by the vision of at least one pis- 
catorial success. The singular fish was a drowned cat, in 
which the hungry hook had fastened, inspiring ardent expec- 
tations in the persistent angler that were never to be realized. 

The Dutch cottage, though not very inviting at first, with 
its massive roof of thatch and rather damp appearance is a 
model of neatness. If you enter you will find, however 
humble the abode, that all the wood-work is scrupulously 
clean ; that every vessel is bright and shining, and that no 
atom of soil or dirt rests on anything. Yery frequently the 
stork has a nest on the top of the gable, and may be heard 
there chattering to her newly-fledged family. Storks are very 
numerous ; remain from the middle of May to the middle 
of August ; are great favorites with the people, and pro- 
tected by law. In spite of the plainness and simplicity of the 
Dutch cottages there is something picturesque in them as they 
are seen at the bend of a canal, peeping out from the screen 
of willows or tall weeds as if they or their inhabitants were 



548 DUTCH COTTAGES. 

amphibious, while the sunshine or clouds overhead make the 
needful light and shade to complete the landscape. 

The Hollanders are exceedingly domestic, even more so 
than the Germans. They marry early, unless unusually op- 
pressed by poverty, and rarely fail to have large families. 
The first incentive to a little money-getting with a young man 
in that country is that he desires to take a wife, and when 
he has one, and becomes the father of several children, he is 
contented with the slenderest income. He regards his 
thatched cottage as if it were a splendid palace, and looks out 
upon the drowsy canal as though it were a crystal stream, on 
which were floating to him every bark of joy and peace. 

The Hollander is rather romantic in his domesticity, and 
with it all his sentimental associations and promises of the 
future are interwoven. As soon as he gets beyond the neces- 
sity of living from day to day, and has put by a little surplus, 
he fixes his thoughts upon and centers his hope in a garden- 
house. This somewhat resembles an English box in the 
country, though it is smaller, and, like everything else in 
Holland, unequivocally unique. The garden-house to which 
the honest Dutchman repairs with his family every Saturday 
evening, and where he remains in undisturbed and smoky en- 
joyment until Monday morning, is usually a little wooden 
building, brightly, often tawdrily painted, and labeled on the 
front in gilt letters, " My Quiet Abode," " Rustic Retreat," 
" Peaceful Haven," or " Home of the Heart." The domestic 
dovecote, in which sundry plump round-faced and noisy doves 
in white pinafores and immaculate short breeches are ever 
prominent, is generally on the border of a canal, inclosed on 
three sides by oozy ditches, skirted by hedges. The patch of 
ground is filled with vegetables and flowers of every produca- 
ble kind. The garden-house and its surroundings are inva- 
riably conspicuous for color, for which the Dutch and Flem- 
ish painters have long been noted. The tiny retreat is some- 
times dazzlingly white, sometimes brilliantly green, at others 
radiantly blue, or startlingly vermilion. Then the members 
of the household, particularly the feminine ones, are clad in 



THE GARDEN HOUSE. 549 

varied and positive hues, while the extreme greenness of the 
hedges and the rich crimson, yellow, purple, gold, and scar- 
let of the dahlias, tulips, carnations, and roses give the im- 
pression of countless butterflies arrested in their flight. The 
more prosperous a Hollander is, the more time and money he 
gives to his garden-house, ordinarily situated in the outskirts 
of the town or city where he earns his stivers and guilders. 
He spends in this way what Americans, tortured by agricul- 
tural theories, spend upon fancy farms, and I have been told 
that rich natives of the Netherlands have invested in four or 
five, sometimes in not more than two or three acres, by far 
the greater part of their income. They could not sell their 
pet plat for one-tenth of its cost, and yet they could not be 
persuaded to part with it for ten times the sum expended in 
what, to them, is the Eden of their expectation. 

With the national love of regularity and form, flowers of 
the same kind and color are usually confined to one bed. Dur- 
ing the summer season, company is entertained and pleasure- 
parties made to these out-of-town retreats where tea, coffee, 
beer and gin are drank, and tobacco burned amid the liveliest 
of gossip and the serenest of substantial comfort. Boating 
is one of the common accompaniments of the Sunday and 
holiday excursions, and parties of merry-makers are constantly 
rowing along the turbid and slimy canals apparently unaware 
that the exhalations from the half-stagnant water are power- 
less to recall the sweets of Hybla or the honeysuckles of Cas- 
tile. 

I have found the summer in Holland anything but desira- 
ble, for then the whole atmosphere is laden with mephetic 
fumes, and the sun burning down upon the flat, marshy, 
canal-fretted kingdom, its whole surface shimmers with heat 
and steams with obnoxious miasmata. The Dutch enjoy this, 
however, to such an extent, that I have come to regard the 
Dutch nose, if not the most whimsical, the most independent 
of the influence of smell of any noses in all Europe. 




CHAPTER LXIX. 

AMSTERDAM. 

MSTERDAM, meaning the dam or dyke of the 
Amstel, at the confluence of which river with 
the Ij, the city is situated, is one of the busi- 
est and most bustling towns on the Continent. 
The metropolis of Holland, and constitutionally 
its capital (the king is crowned there, though 
the seat of government and the royal residence 
are at the Hague), the population, at present some 
275,000, is steadily increasing, as is natural with its exten- 
sive manufactures and much more extensive commerce. One 
would hardly look for so active and wealthy a place if he did 
not remember that the colonies belonging to Holland in the 
East Indies, with the territories in Sumatra, Borneo, New 
Guinea, Surinam, Cura^oa, and several West India islands, 
have a combined population of about 17,000,000, and that 
Amsterdam conducts the chief trade and commerce of all 
those distant regions. 

Amsterdam, called the Venice of the North, only resembles 
the Italian city in its building on piles, its numerous canals 
and contiguity to the sea. Venice is a dream of the past ; 
Amsterdam a realization of the present. The city, as may 
be supposed, stands on soft, wet ground, with a bed of sand 
50 feet below the surface, into which the piles are driven. 
The principal branch of the Amstel enters the city on the 
southeast, and winding through it divides it into the old and 
new sides, and is joined to the Ij by this and numerous other 
courses. The different canals, crossed by two hundred and 



THE VENICE OF THE NORTH. 551 

fifty bridges, mostly of stone, and usually provided with a 
draw in the center, divide the town into ninety islands. To- 
ward the land the walls form a semi-circle, flanked by a broad 
ditch and bordered by trees. The ramparts have been lev- 
eled, and on the bastions, twenty-eight or thirty in number, 
windmills have been erected. Amsterdam has eight stone 
gates, named after the different towns to which they lead. 
On both sides of the Amstel, the streets toward the sea are 
narrow and irregular, but beyond that part of the town are 
five main lines of thoroughfares, corresponding to the semi- 
circular direction of the walls. The principal of these 
thoroughfares, the Heeren, Keizer, Singel, and Prinzens- 
gracht, are long, broad, excellently paved, and very well 
built. In the centre of each, as in nearly all the streets of 
the city, is a canal bordered with broad brick-paved quays, 
and planted with trees. The houses are mostly built of brick, 
six or seven stories high, rather narrow in proportion, round 
or pointed at the top, the gables to the street, often constructed 
in the form of a staircase, entered by flights of steps in front, 
and surmounted by forked chimney stacks. The buildings 
of pretension are surmounted by a carved and polished slab 
of white marble. The shops, particularly in the Nieuwendyk, 
the Kalvers, and Warmois straat, are large, admirably fitted 
and stocked, abounding in windows of plate-glass, for which 
the city is renowned. The handsomest, as well as most 
noticeable building in Amsterdam, indeed in all Holland, 
though it would not be remarkable elsewhere, is the Royal 
Palace, once occupied by Louis Bonaparte, and formerly the 
Town Hall, which the Dutch are never weary of extolling, and 
which they consider one of the finest pieces of architecture 
of modern times. It is a stone edifice, in parallelogrammatic 
form, about 270 feet long, 210 broad, and 110 feet high, rest- 
ing on 14,000 piles, has many excellent paintings, and is 
noted for its great hall, lined with white Italian marble, 112 
feet long and 90 feet high. The marble is finely carved, and 
when the room is brilliantly lighted, as it is on state ball 
nights, and the floor is crowded with elegantly-dressed 
dancers, it shows to advantage. 



552 VARIEGATED THEOLOGY. 

The churches of the city are marked by plainness and 
simplicity, but share the unique character of everything in 
Holland. Many of them have six or eight gables built out 
from the center, and, standing in damms or open places, are 
surrounded by shops, so that it is difficult to find the en- 
trance. It is as if theology were fortified by trade, which may 
be the unconscious symbol of the spirit of the country. I 
have frequently gone roimd and round the churches, peering 
into a haberdasher's or cordwainer's, or grocer's, to discover 
the means of ingress. By and bye I would find a narrow 
way or little shop, through which I could gain admission to 
the church. 

The finest ecclesiastical edifice is the Nieuwe Kerk, or 
New Church, the upper part supported by 50 stone pillars, 
and lighted by 75 large windows, some of them handsomely 
stained. It contains a number of tombs of distinguished 
Dutchmen, among others that of the noted dramatic poet, 
Vondel (the partial natives have compared him to Shakes- 
peare), and that of Admiral De Ruyter, who sailed up the 
Medway, and burned the . English fleet at Chatham. The 
Oude Kerk, or Old Church — it was founded in the fourteenth 
century, only a few years after the so-called New Church — is 
the burial place of several of the prominent Admirals, and 
has a large and fine-toned organ, ranking in reputation with 
that at Haarlem. 

Amsterdam, as a representative of Holland, has a varia- 
gated theology. The State religion is Calvinism, but there 
are besides, about 35,000 Evangelical Lutherans, 50,000 Ro- 
man Catholics, over 20,000 Jews, with a large number of 
Scotch Presbyterians, English Episcopalians, Moravians, 
Baptists, Quakers, and Greeks, each and all of whom have 
their places of worship. There are some 50 benevolent and 
charitable institutions in the city, including asylums for the 
blind, the deaf and dumb, hospitals for the poor, the infirm, 
for orphans, widows, foundlings, the aged, and the insane. 

The Museum has a collection of some 500 pictures, prin- 
cipally of the Dutch and Flemish schools. Some of them are 



THE DIAMOND MILLS. 553 

masterpieces, notably Gerard Don's " Evening School," in 
which the efifect of several candles is distinctly illustrated by 
the admirable management of light and shade. This little 
painting, 14 by 20 inches, was executed by the artist, it is 
said, for $100. The Museum paid for it, more than sixty 
years ago, $3,700, and it could not now be bought for four 
times that sum. The feature of the gallery is Vanderhelst's 
" Banquet of the Burgess Guard," which took place June 18, 
1648, in the grand hall of St. Loris Docle, in that city, to 
commemorate the peace of Westphalia. The twenty-five fig- 
ures are all portraits, and excellently done. Rembrandt's 
" Night Watch," and the elder Teniers' " Body Guard," and 
" Temptation of St. Anthony," are also striking illustrations 
of art. 

A magnificent piece of engineering is the ship canal, 20 
feet deep, 125 broad, and over 50 miles long, constructed 
between Amsterdam and the Holder at an expense of over 
$5,000,000 to obviate the danger and difficulty of navigating 
the shallow water of the Zuyder Zee. 

There are half a dozen theatres in the city where perform- 
ances are given in French, Dutch, and German. At two of 
the minor theatres, which have variety performances, some- 
thing like the Alhambra, in London, on a small scale, smok- 
ing and drinking are allowed, and the result is that even the 
phlegmatic Dutch so fill the places with noise and the fumes 
of tobacco that it is almost impossible to see or hear anything 
of the entertainment. 

Gem-cutting is a specialty of Amsterdam, and in the dia- 
mond mills, as they are usually called, about 10,000 Jews, in 
wliose hands are these establishments, are regularly employed. 
There diamonds and other stones are cut and polished for 
jewelers all over Europe. Not being a dealer in diamonds, I 
had no difficulty in obtaining admission to one of the largest 
mills, worked by steam engines, and their machinery, acting 
on metal plates, causes them to revolve with excessive rapid- 
ity. On these plates diamond dust is laid, and the diamond 
to be polished is placed on a cap of amalgamized zinc and 



554 ^ GREAT BANKING CENTER. 

quicksilver, and pressed against the plates. When a diamond 
is to be cut, diamond dust is put on a fine wire, and drawn 
rapidly backward and forward like a saw. The diamond 
dust, which is, of course, very valuable, is carefully watched, 
and not a particle of it wasted, as with nothing else can the 
cutting or polishing be accomplished. Many of the Jewish 
proprietors of the diamond mills are very wealthy, and, like 
their race in all quarters of the globe, are connoisseurs in dia- 
monds and every variety of precious stones. Amsterdam 
and Antwerp are the principal diamond markets on the Con- 
tinent, and persons wishing to buy or sell valuable diamonds 
usually go to one of the two cities for the purpose. 

Amsterdam, with the exception of Frankfort, is the richest 
city for its size on the globe. Though comparatively new, 
having been, early in the thirteenth century, only a fishing 
village, with a small castle, in which the lords of Amstel re- 
sided, it has prospered bravely, reaching its acme of success 
during the 16th and 17th century, when the siege and decline 
of Antwerp, and the closing of navigation on the Scheldt 
gave it the rank of the first commercial city in Europe. In 
banking it has long been eminent, and a number of firms have 
made immense fortunes. One of the most noted and wealth- 
iest houses is Hope & Co., founded in the 17th century by 
Henry Hope, a Scotchman of French descent. Another 
Henry Hope, one of the leading members of the firm, forty 
or fifty years ago, was an American, whose father, a Scotch 
loyalist, had settled in Boston. After the Rothschilds, this 
house has probably exercised as much financial influence as 
any one firm on the Continent. The banking capital of Am- 
sterdam is enormous. The money its bankers have and cin 
control is not far from $500,000,000. 

Some of the most prosperous bankers and merchants live 
with a plainness and an economy which in this country would 
be called niggardliness. Their ofiices are often in rear build- 
ings and out of the way places where no one would look 
for firms with an European reputation. I have had occasion 
to call on some of the bankers there, and after groping about 



COSTUMES OF THE PEASANTS. 555 

through basements, and up narrow stairways, I found men 
transacting business of millions a week in dingy apartments, 
whose entire furniture would not have brought 500 guilders 
in the most favorable market. 

In Amsterdam, on festal days, the peasants from the prov- 
inces pay the commercial capital a visit, and attract much at- 
tention from their quaint costumes which have undergone no 
change for a century and a half. The Eierlander wears a 
dress partially Swiss and partially Greek, a high, peaked cap, 
with bands of red at the top and base, a pointed collar, a red 
and white striped cravat, a green skirt and jacket above a 
purple underwaist over which the jacket is laced with a yel- 
low cord. The sleeves, of a drab color, fit close to the arm, 
with white puffs at the shoulder and pointed cuffs at the 
wrist. A plaid yellow apron is worn and fastened at the 
waist with a large bow of a bright orange hue. The skirt 
descends to a few inches above the ankle, and white stock- 
ings with high shoes complete this singular garb. 

The Frieslander of the common sort wears a close-fitting 
gown of green, a large lace cape, and on her head a lace cap 
covering her ears and coming nearly to her shoulders, while 
on each side of her head is a large piece of brass shaped like 
an oyster-shell and fastened at the bottom with something 
that looks like an old-fashioned window-curtain. If of the 
better class, her lace is finer, and she dons what is known 
here as a spencer cape with a deep embroidered border. 

The native of Zealand has short, close fitting sleeves, and 
a vest of large-figured calico. About her neck is a brass 
collar ornamented with bits of red glass. A band of the 
same kind is around her forehead, and over her ears hang 
several brazen links set in the same manner. 

The Zaandam peasant is attired in a short gown, usually 
of bright green, with a gathered skirt, a brass mounting over 
her forehead and at the side of her temples, and a black hood 
lined with white, falling over her shoulders. 

The Beierlander, in addition to an ordinary gown, and 
apron of flaming color, wears a kind of lace cap gathered in 



556 ORPHANS IN MASQUERADE. 

heavy folds at the sides, and entirely concealing her hair. In 
her ears are large hoop rings from which hang huge crosses 
of brass or gilt with settings of crimson glass. 

The denizen of North Brabout covers her bust with a taw- 
dry handkerchief fastened at the waist, and decks her head 
with a huge stiffly starched cap that suggests an exaggerated 
wig of the Louis XIV. style. 

There are numerous other quaint costumes with variations 
of peculiar caps, brass ornaments, and chains about the face,' 
and extraordinary bonnets, looking like inverted wash-bowls, 
and coal-skuttles, of the modern pattern. What prompts 
women with wit enough to keep out of a lunatic asylum to so 
distort themselves is not for the masculine mind to divine. 
We often wonder at the hideousness of fashions of the present 
day, and it is consolatory to know that in the Netherlands, 
some four or five generations since, they were even worse 
than now. And it is always pleasant to remember that the 
present, bad as it may be, is an improvement on the past. 

The orphans, who are inmates of the asylums, and who 
frequently appear in the streets in procession on Sundays and 
holidays, wear a uniform of black and red, one-half of the 
boy's jacket being red and the other half black, while the 
skirt of the girl's gown is equally divided by the two colors. 
The boy's trousers and the girl's waist are entirely black. His 
cap is black with a red band, and she wears a white hand- 
kerchief crossed over her breast, and a white apron. A long 
line of the orphans so attired looks very grotesque, and is 
apt to give the impression to strangers that the little folks of 
the town are out in masquerade. 

Few buildings of Amsterdam that are not out of the per- 
pendicular, and, considering their number, they are much 
more remarkable than the Asinelli, or the Garisenda towers 
at Bologna. They look alarmingly infirm, as if they might 
tumble down any moment. They lean in all directions, some- 
times forward, sometimes backward, to the right and also the 
left; and I have heard it said that the citizens hold a prejudice 
against a warehouse or dwelling which is straighter, or rather 



DR UNKEN HO USES. 557 

less crooked, than the average. What seems to be eccentric 
architecture arises from the sinking of the piles on which 
the buildings are erected. Notwithstanding the appearance 
of the houses they are all perfectly safe, as they are put up 
very substantially and with the best of foundations. Such a 
thing as the falling of a building has never, I think, been 
heard of in Amsterdam. There is something ludicrous, how- 
ever, in the structures of whole streets appearing unable to 
stand upright, as if the entire town had been on a riotous ex^ 
cursion to Schiedam, and had come home, after trying to 
drink out its two hundred distilleries, staggering under spirit- 
uous defeat. 

I heard of an American, in Amsterdam, who had, one even- 
ing, been testing too fully the quality of the national gin, and 
who subsequently attempted to walk home. After going 
round and round one of the damms for nearly an hour, he 
steadied himself against a lamp-post and fixing his eye on a 
church, he said : " Well, this is the crookedest town I've seen 
yet. It beats Genoa and Antwerp. I swear I've passed that 
church forty times in as many minutes ; and yet I must have 
walked three miles. Either that church is following me, or 
I am drunk. (After a few moments reflection.) Perhaps I 
am drunk. Well, it isn't strange. Look at the houses! 
They've got their kegs full, sure. If I am drunk, I'm soberer 
than this town is anyhow. When houses can't stand any 
straighter than these do, they ought to be taken in, and not 
be allowed to stay out all night, disgracing themselves in this 
way." 

On my first arrival in the fcity I ordered the coachman to 
drive me to the Bible House, to which I had been recom- 
mended. It was so very far from the station — nearly three 
miles — that I imagined the driver must be playing one of the 
tricks for which the Hibernian hackmen at home are so no- 
torious. By questioning him, however, I discovered that he 
had the usual Dutch honesty, and was taking me by as direct 
a route as possible. The Bible House, which, though a hotel, 
keeps the name of its Scriptural original, 1 found to be mod- 



558 ^ QVEER HOTEL. 

eled after the Calvanistic creed. It was so very narrow that 
going up stairs was like climbing a ladder ; and, slender as I 
am, my room was so small that I had to sleep on my side all 
night, and then descend to breakfast by the stairway hand 
over hand. This is something of an exaggeration ; but I can 
conscientiously say that the Bible House reminded me of a 
very thin slice of a moderate-sized hotel which had been care- 
fully cut off for some deserving charity. One night in the 
Bible House made me feel so much like the edge of a razor 
that I went the next morning to the Amstel, the best hotel 
in the kingdom, and allowed myself to expand to the breadth 
of a knitting needle. 

The Amstel is new, and built after modern requirements. 
It is almost the only place I slept in Holland where the beds 
are long enough. The Dutch cherish a notion that four feet 
or thereabouts is the proper length for a bedstead, and as 
they usually sleep with their chin on their knees, brevity 
makes little difference with them. I once thought that they 
slept with their boots on, and put them over the foot-board so 
that the servants could pull them off and black them without 
awakening the owners. Travel has enabled me to correct 
this with many other errors. 

The Hollanders seem very primitive. I remember going 
into a barber's shop in Amsterdam, one day, and offering the 
barber a napoleon for shaving me. He didn't know what 
the coin was, and went out and staid nearly half an hour to 
inquire among his neighbors if he was safe in changing the 
coin. As napoleons are current all over the Continent, I was 
forced to believe the barber below the average of stupidity. 

The city is governed by a Senate or Council of thirty-six 
members and twelve burgomasters ; the members of the Coun- 
cil serving during life, and -filling by their own election any 
vacancies that may occur. 

Considering the unique character of Amsterdam, I wonder 
it is so seldom visited, especially as it is so near Brussels and 
Paris where every one goes. 




CHAPTER LXX. 

DUTCH CUSTOMS AND CHABACTEKISTICS. 

N one respect the Dutcli are like the Chinese — 
many of them live almost entirely on the water. 
As they can go from any one part of the kingdom 
to any other by their canals, and as a large number 
of the population is engaged in traffic and in the 
carrying trade, men not only keep their families on 
boats, but also their fowls and domestic animals. Thus their 
vessels (trekschuiten) become aquatic homes, and may be con- 
sidered a species of modem ark in which Hans or Dietrich 
plays the role of Noah, with an opinion about the deluge more 
nearly resembling that of Louis XIV., than the Biblical patri- 
arch's. One would not suppose that a vessel in which ducks, 
geese, pigs, cows, and children, are kept, would be very neat 
or wholesome ; but the trekschuit is remarkably so, consider- 
ing the circumstances. The cabins built on the upper decks, 
and occupied by the members of the family are swept, 
scrubbed, and polished, with the frequent regularity and un- 
relenting rigor displayed on land. 

To a foreigner, one of these floating households, drawn 
by horses at the rate of four miles an hour, is curious enough. 
One week they are at Rotterdam ; the next at Delft, and the 
third at the Hague. They pass May at Leyden; June at 
Haarlem ; July at Alkmaar ; August at Amsterdam ; Septem- 
ber at Utrecht ; October at Gorkum, and winter at Nymwegen 
or Bois le Due; so that, if Holland be their world, as it 
usually is to the common people, they must become thoroughly 



560 THE WATER-DWELLING POPULATION. 

cosmopolitan. I have heard it estimated that not less than 
300,000 or 400,000 persons pass their lives upon the water, 
and support themselves by trading between one point and 
another. Children are born on the vessels ; are reared there ; 
dwell there ; die there, bounding the sphere of their being by 
the dull canals. Almost the only recreation they have is in 
winter, when, being frozen in, they go skating and sledding 
because they can use their time in no money-getting way. 

The Dutch are, I repeat, models of prudence and thrift ; 
living very comfortably, but making every stitver count. They 
have none of the vainglory of money-spending ; do nothing 
for mere show. Nearly all the tradesmen in every town live 
over their shops after the old fashion, and combine their com- 
mercial affairs more or less with their domesticity. ~Eot a few 
of the large merchants do likewise, having beside the canals 
their tall warehouses (reserving certain apartments for their 
residence) into which they can lift merchandise from vessels by 
means of blocks projecting from the roofs of the buildings. 
The vast capital of the Hollanders has been acquired much more 
by their saving than by their earning capacity. "With every 
natural advantage to contend against, they have had extraor- 
dinary prosperity. Fighting, for generations, foreign foes and 
the native sea, they have been trained to the every-day battles 
of life, and the unending struggle for existence. The goods 
of this world are generally well distributed among them, and 
no nation in Europe gives more evidence of health, comfort, 
and contentment. Most of their wealth is derived from dairies 
and live stock ; excellent meadows having been created by the 
draining of bogs and lakes. They get their cattle from Den- 
mark and Germany, and it is remarkable in how short a time 
the lean kine become fat and sleek, yielding milk out of which 
immense quantities of butter and cheese of the best quality 
are made. In Holland, as in Ireland, excellent peat is found 
and used for fuel. Mixed with the Dutch are 600,000 or 
700,000 Walloons, Frisians and Germans ; but with these the 
natives seldom intermarry, so that the national type — stout 
and rather short figure, and blonde complexion — is pretty well 



THE INSANITY OF CLEANLINESS. 561 

preserved. The Holland women as a sex are better-looking 
than the men, being slenderer and frequently taller ; while their 
features are more delicate, and their expression less stolid. 
Many of the men and women, notwithstanding the northern 
latitude, are decided brunettes — these are the comeliest — 
though the blue eyes and flaxen hair are the rule. 

The neatness of the Dutch is proverbial ; but it seems to 
me to consist mainly in externals. The country is so damp 
that great surface care has always been a necessity ; hence the 
endless dusting, sweeping, rubbing, and scrubbing, all over the 
kingdom, which gives a stranger the impression of universal 
and eternal house-cleaning. 

The Dutch woman is a bom housewife, and can never 
know rest or satisfaction until every speck of soil or dirt is 
removed from her range of vision. She is an unconscious 
Lady Macbeth, who, instead of walking in her sleep, is ever 
working in her wakefulness, and crying mentally, "Out, 
damned spot ! " to every unclean atom which serves at once 
for her torture and delight. She is an arch enemy of all foul- 
ness ; the rag, and broom, and brush, are the symbols of her 
function. She makes order a nuisance, and cleanliness a dis- 
tress. Water pours, and soap foams before her. She is not 
happy unless she can see her round and ruddy face reflected in 
every vessel of tin or brass ; and the sight of a stain disturbs 
her nerves like the hysterics. Her children are washed until 
their flesh is sore, and if the little creatures were not rugged 
of constitution, they would perish from superfluous hydropathy. 
She sets her foot upon the ploughshare of household work, and 
every day she passes a splashing and rubbing ordeal. 

The masculine Hollander, though less tormented than his 
mate by the passion for neatness, still carries his ideas of order 
and material purity to extremes. He strives to make his stable 
look like his parlor ; often ties up his horse's tail to prevent it 
from contact with dirt, and has been known to whitewash or 
paint the smooth ends of sticks of wood piled for winter 
use. He knows where each tool or each article in his shop is 
to be found, and always keeps it in the best condition. He 
36 



562 NOT NEAT IX MAXY THINGS. 

understands the adaptation of means to ends ; wastes nothing ; 
lets nothing rust or decaj. All this has been taught him by 
the needs of his climate and condition ; but beyond this are 
niceties he takes little into account, and forms of cleanliness 
his helpmate does not suspect. 

Among the less obvious neatnesses may be mentioned those 
of person. Children are scrubbed as pans and kettles are, be- 
cause they are part of the belongings of the household ; but 
when maturity is arrived at, baths and fresh linen are not 
deemed so indispensable. The cultivated classes there, as 
everywhere, make of purity a religion ; but the people in 
ordinary or common life, though they may be madly devoted 
to order and objective cleanliness, give no evidence of apply- 
ing the principle to themselves. They are not so entirely 
careless and untidy as the Latin nations, and yet their habits 
are not very different from those of the inhabitants of north- 
ern Europe generally. They would certainly add to their 
agreeableness by superior neatness, and may cultivate improve- 
ment of a personal kind for many years without caiTying it to 
a vicious extreme. They are heedless, too, of their culinary 
preparations. Their table-cloth will be immaculate, and every 
dish upon it lambent with labor ; still you cannot be sure that 
the water of which the coffee has been made is altogether 
pure or fresh. "What does not show, in Holland, is. apt to be 
neglected, and the prevalent neatness arises less from refine- 
ment and fastidiousness than from tlie enforcement of obliga- 
tion and the inheritance of habit. 

The Dutch sense of sight appears to be cultivated at the 
expense of at least two of the other senses — smell and taste. 
During their blazing Augusts they are profoundly unconscious 
that their sluices, ditches and canals, fragrant with green scum, 
decaying fish and long exanimated kittens, are not fresh as 
breezes from the sea. Again and again I have asked how 
they managed to endure their summer sweets, and they have 
invariably told me they were unaware of their existence. 
Their appetite, moreover, is more hearty than discriminating. 
They greedily devour what a delicate palate would reject, and 



THE CLE AXE ST TOWN ON THE GLOBE. 563 

smoke pipes so ancient and so potent as to make any other 
gorge than tlieirs violently rebellious. I have seen them empty- 
ing prosaic ntensils, dipping np water, washing fish and their 
own feet, less than three yards apart, in the slimy and unsavory 
canals. This may be neatness in Dutch, but, translated into 
English, it bears another name. 

My own idea about the reputation of Holland for cleanli- 
ness is, that two or three centuries ago, it was in this respect 
greatly in advance of other nations. Since then they have 
made vast improvement, while Holland has stood still. But 
we continue to laud them for a conspicuous habit which in us 
has grown to be an instinct, though it reveals itself in less 
obvious forms. 

Six miles from Amsterdam is Broek, often called the 
cleanest town in the world. You take the ferry-boat to Wa- 
terland, and from there go on foot or by carriage to the soilless 
spot. Most of the inhabitants of Broek are wealthy, many of 
them being landed proprietors, or retired merchants. They 
are all united in cariying material cleanliness in their houses 
and streets to an excess that is ridiculous. The greater part 
of the residences — not entered without change of shoes — are 
, of wood, painted white and green, though the fronts of not a 
few are yellow, blue, orange, brown, and red. The roofs are 
of polished tile, and the narrow streets are paved either with 
brick, or with small stones set in regular patterns. The entire 
population, which is less than 1,500, seems to occupy itself 
from dawn to dark in washing, rubbing, scrubbing, and pol- 
ishing. Such a lot of monomaniacs on the subject of neatness 
never before existed, and never will, let us hope, exist again. 
They are soap-and-water crazy, brush-and-broom mad. With 
the earhest flush of the morning, troops of servants begin to 
sweep, and rub, and dust everywhere and everything, though 
not a speck of dirt could be discovered with a microscope. 
The stables are as carefully kept as the dwellings. The floor 
is sometimes of cabinet work, and before entering them ordi- 
nary boots or shoes are removed, as in the dwellings, for slip- 
pers or sabots. I have myself seen cows' tails held up by 



564 ZAANDAM, 

cords to keep tliem out of any impurity. Horses and cattle 
are washed every morning, as if they were children. Yehi- 
cles of any kind are never permitted to enter the village — no 
business is done there — as the horses' hoofs and the wheels 
might soil or break the elaborate pavement. Some of the side- 
walks are laid with porcelain, and the finest tiles, arranged in 
handsome figures, as in our halls and vestibules. If a straw, 
or twig, or leaf fall in the street, it is almost immediately 
picked up or swept off. I have been told there is in almost 
every house a particular room devoted to order and tidiness, 
and entered only once a week that the furniture may be dusted 
and rubbed, and then locked up again until the next periodic 
visit. Some of the Calvinistic families, I am informed, are so 
zealous in the observation of the Sabbath, that they have two 
handles to their pump — one for the ordinary days of the week, 
and the other for Sunday. 

There is nothing too absurd for the residents of Broek to 
do in their insanity of neatness. The impression I received 
from the village was not pleasant. I would not live in it a 
year if it were given to me. The inhabitants seem to be 
small, narrow, and one-ideaed, as they must necessarily be, with 
no other thought or aspiration than that of cleanliness, which 
they do their best to make odious. Strangers visit Broek from 
sheer curiosity, regarding its people as amusing lunatics, to 
whom common carelessness is total depravity. The greater 
part of the villagers are Calvinists, who probably believe that 
the Bottomless Pit is a region where Hollanders are con- 
demned through all eternity to see dirt, without the opportu- 
nity or expectation of removing it. 

Another place of interest is Saardam, or Zaandam, nine 
miles from Amsterdam. You can reach it by steamboat in about 
an hour. The town has a population of some 12,000, nearly 
all sailors or ship-builders. It is noted for its windmills — some 
four hundred in all — employed in grinding soft rock, found on 
the Rliine, which, when mixed with lime, forms trass, used as 
a cement in the construction of the Dutch docks and dykes. 
It was here Peter the Great, Emperor of Russia, learned his 



FETER THE GREAT^ S COTTAGE. 



5C5 



trade, having gone to Holland that he might instruct his sub- 
jects in the art of ship-building. He was so much annoyed, 
however, by the curious crowd, that he quitted Zaandam, and 
entered the dock-yard of the East India Company, in Amster- 
dam, which was enclosed within walls. The cottage in which 
Peter lived still stands, having been purchased by the late 
Queen of Holland, sister of the Russian Emperor Alexander, 
who caused it to be enclosed with shutters. Every part of the 
cottage is written over with names, a few of them noted, but 
most of them noodles. The Emperor Alexander had a tablet 
placed over the mantel-piece, with the inscription, " Nothing 
too small for a great man." 





CHAPTER LXXL 

DIFFEKENT DUTCH CITIES. 

^AAELEM, with a population of 29,000, was 
once famous for its bleaching works and cot- 
ton manufactories ; but both of these branches 
of trade have greatly declined. Historically the 
town is well known for its siege by the Span- 
iards, under the Duke of Alva, which lasted 
seven months. At the end of that time, being 
wasted by famine, the heroic Dutch determined to cut their 
way through the enemy's camp. The besiegers, learning of 
the desperate determination, offered amnesty if the garrison 
would deliver up fifty-seven of the principal citizens. For the 
sake of the starving women and children, that number of 
citizens voluntarily surrendered themselves, and Haarlem 
capitulated. The Duke of Alva, with his characteristic per- 
fidy and cruelty, violated his plighted word, and put to death 
two thousand soldiers and citizens. 

Haarlem is a great market for the sale of bulbous roots, 
tulips, hyacinths, dahlias, etc., raised in the Bloemen-Tuinen — 
extensive nursery grounds on the south side of the city. When 
the tulip mania raged throughout Europe, fabulous prices 
were paid for the Haarlem bulbs, $2,000 and $2,500 having 
been given for a single one. The public gambled in them as 
the Wall street bulls and bears do in stocks, and hundreds of 
men lost their wits and their fortunes in the wild and singular 
speculation. The average rate there for tulip bulbs at present 
is about twenty-five cents, and the highest figure is $50. One 
horticulturist in town exports annually 100,000 ranunculuses, 



HAARLEM AND ITS FLOWERS. 667 

150,000 hyacinths, 300,000 tulips, 400,000 crocuses, and a 
great many other flowers. 

The church of St. Bavon, a vast Gothic structure, with a 
high, square tower, contains the organ, of which everybody 
has heard, and which at one time was the largest in the world. 
This instrument has 60 stops, 5,000 pipes, the largest of them 
15 inches in diameter, and fills the entire end of the church. 
The organ is very powerful, but has not, to my ear, so sweet 
or so delicate a tone as the instiniments at Freiburg or Bepn, 
one of which, if not both, are superior to it in size. 

The great engines employed in pumping out the Lake of 
Haarlem, containing at least 1,000,000,000 tuns of water, by 
which 50,000 acres of land were redeemed and made produc- 
tive, have become objects of interest, and are frequently visited 
by the curious. 

The city, with the ever-present canals, bordered by trees, 
the high-roofed buildings and peaked attic windows, looks 
pleasing and picturesque. The environs are attractive, and 
the country between Haarlem and Amsterdam is so intersected 
with canals, causeways, sluices and windmills, as to make it 
unusually interesting. 

The old city of Leyden has seriously deteriorated. It once 
contained over 90,000 people, but now has less than 40,000. 
At present it is best known as the seat of the University, for- 
merly one of the most prominent seats of learning in Europe, 
and still in high repute. It has about twenty professors and 
Ave hundred students. Among the former have been Ar- 
minius, Gomarus, and Scaliger, and among the latter, Grotius, 
Descartes, Fielding, and Goldsmith. Leyden is pleasantly 
situated on the Old Rhine, six miles from its mouth. Its 
former fortifications have been torn down, and the lines of the 
walls planted with trees.* The seven gates, however, are still ' 
standing, and the ancient Castle de Burg is now occupied as a 
hotel, and the adjacent grounds converted into tea-gardens. 
The streets are broad, straight, and scrupulously clean. One 
of them — Breede straat — the Dutch consider equal to any 
thoroughfare in Europe; but this opinion can only be ex- 



568 LEY DEN. 

plained by their national vanity. During the seventeenth and 
eighteenth centuries, the town was what Leipsic is now — a 
great centre of the book trade. The renowned Elseviers were 
then enjoying their typographical glory, and made their edi- 
tions of the classics famous everywhere. All that now remains 
of that flourishing past is to be found in five ordinary printing 
offices. 

The Musemn of Natural History is an admirable collection, 
one of the fullest and best selected in Europe, and includes 
among its minerals the largest topaz in the world. 

The Stadthuis (Town Hall) has a portrait of Peter Yan- 
derwerf, the burgomaster who, for four months, so bravely 
defended the town against the Spaniards, in 1574. For sevcTi 
weeks the garrison and citizens, having no provisions, sub- 
sisted on dogs, cats and rats. Hundreds died of hunger, and 
in their dire extremity the stoutest of Vanderwerf's follow- 
ers begged him to surrender and save them from starvation. 
He made answer by offering them his body to appease their 
hunger, which so shamed them that their complaints were 
silenced, and they resumed the battle with new vigor. The 
burgomaster's heroism was nobly rewarded. The Prince 
of Orange at last broke down the dykes to relieve the suffering 
city, and a high wind, sweeping over the land, drove the 
waters so rapidly that at least twelve hundred of the besiegers 
were drowned. The same wind also wafted a fleet of two 
hundred boats from ^Rotterdam to the gates of Leyden, and 
the gallant city was delivered in its last extremity. 

The Hague, — the Hollanders call it 'S Gravenhage, — thirty- 
two miles from Amsterdam, is the residence of the Court and 
the States-General. Situated on a branch of the Leyden and 
Rotterdam canal, four miles from the North Sea, it is thought 
the finest city in Holland. It is surrounded by a moat crossed 
by drawbridges, and many of its streets are intersected by 
canals, lined there as in all the Dutch cities, by rows of trees. 
Originally it was a hunting-seat for the counts of Holland, as 
its native name implies, and did not rise into any importance 
until the beginning of this century ; Louis Bonaparte having 



THE EAGUE. 669 

conferred upon it the privileges of a city. The town has 
about 90,000 inhabitants, and is exceedingly well built ; the 
streets being wide and paved with brick, with many handsome 
groves of trees. The Hague has been more influenced by 
Paris than any city in Holland, as is observable in its cus- 
toms and manners, and French is generally spoken by the 
cultivated classes, and many of its tradesmen. The society of 
the poUtical capital is of the best, and there is an unusual 
amount of gayety, form and display among a people so uni- 
formly staid and self-contained as the Dutch. It is the birth- 
place of William II., Prince of Orange, "William HI., King of 
England, Huygens, the mathematician, Boerhaave, the physi- 
cian, Bilderdijk, the poet, and was the residence of Barneveldt 
and the De Witts. 

The principal edifices are in the Yyverberg — the great 
square in the north or fashionable quarter. The royal palace 
is a plain Grecian building, and the former palace of Prince 
Maurice is now the National Museum, containing an unrivalled 
collection of Dutch paintings. The most celebrated picture is 
Paul Potter's " Young Bull " — ^probably the best animal paint- 
ing extant. The bull, the cow reclining on the grass, several 
sheep, an aged rustic looking over the fence, and the entire 
landscape seem to have been cut out of nature. Bembrandt's 
" Anatomical Lesson," representing the dissection of a corpse 
by a medical professor and his pupils, ghastly as the subject 
is, is strikingly vi\dd and impressive. The cadaverous color 
and shrmiken appearance of the dead body are wonderfully 
natural. Judged merely as a work of art, I have seen nothing 
of Rembrandt's equal to it. Gerard Dou, Holbein, Wouver- 
mans, have some of their best works there, and Poussin's 
" Yenus Asleep " is a fine specimen of drawing and color. 

On the lower floor of the Museum, among the historic 
relics, is the dress worn by William, Prince of Orange, the 
day of his assassination at Delft ; the shirt and waistcoat of 
Wilham HI., the sword of Yan Speyk, and the armor of Ad- 
miral Yan Tromp. 

The Binnenhof has much historic interest, having been the 



570 DELFT. 

scene of the execution of Jan Yan Olden Barneveldt, one of 
the noblest and most patriotic of Hollanders, who, because he 
sought the good of his country, was falsely accused and falsely 
condemned by the malignant machinations of Maurice, Prince 
of Orange. The exact spot where fell that venerable and 
blameless head is still pointed out. 

The State prison is shown in which Cornelius De "Witt was 
confined because he was opposed to the ambition of the 
princes of Orange, as Barneveldt had been, and whence he 
and his brother, Jan De "Witt, the Grand Pensionary, were 
dragged by a savage mob and torn to pieces. The Dutch, 
like the Flemings, had in the past a fatal habit of sacrificing to 
their suspicion and wrath those of their citizens who deserved 
the deepest gratitude at their hands. 

The House in the "Woods, as it is called, now the residence 
of the Queen of Holland, is in the suburbs, and reached by 
the Yoorhout, a broad road, skirted with trees and elegant 
mansions. It is in the centre of a well-wooded park, sur- 
rounded by artificial lakes, and grounds beautifully laid out. 
The house, very plain on the outside, is exquisitely furnished, 
the walls hung with tapestry and many admirable pictures. 

I visited Delft, with its 20,000 inhabitants, because from 
its port — Delft-Haven — the Pilgrim Fathers embarked for 
Southampton, July 22, 1620, and also to see the monument 
of William of Orange, assassinated by Balthazar Gerard, an 
agent of Philip II., who, with the Jesuits, had long been con- 
spiring against the prince's life. They made seven attemj^ts to 
murder him, and on the eighth succeeded. On his tomb is an 
inscription referring to a small dog, a great favorite with Wil- 
liam, who was once preserved by the faithful guardian's bark- 
ing and jumping on the bed when the assassins were about to 
stab him in his sleep. After the murder of the prince, the 
dog pined and refused food until he died. The palace where 
Prince William met his death is now used as a barrack. The 
Old Church contains the monument of Admiral Van Tromp, 
the hero of thirty-two battles, with a bas-relief representing 
the engagement in which he fell. Delft is clean and well 



ROTTERDAM. 571 

built, but dull and drowsy as a Dutchman nodding over his 
midnight schnapps. 

Rotterdam is the second city in Holland, boasting a popula- 
tion of 120,000, which is steadily increasing. It is more favor- 
ably situated for trade than Amsterdam, and has a very large 
and growing commerce. Its residents are of various nation- 
ahties, English, French, Germans, Danes, Russians, Poles, 
Jews, Greeks, Armenians, Italians, Spaniards and Americans, 
having large mercantile interests there. The scenes at the 
Exchange are tumultuous and exciting. I went there several 
times, and I don't think I ever heard a greater confusion of 
tongues, and more noise made about money in all my life. If 
any new Tower of Babel should ever be built, and workmen 
should be needed to illustrate the old story, they could be as 
readily supplied in Rotterdam as in any place I know. 

The city is altogether Dutch, the high, quaint-looking 
houses being built of very small bricks, and designed more for 
comfort than for beauty. Many of the private dwellings there, 
as in other towns in Holland, have small mirrors outside the 
windows, reflecting up and down, so that everybody and every- 
tliing passing in the street can be seen by the inmates, while 
they themselves remain invisible. There seems to be a per- 
petual rivalry and endless contest there between the men as 
meerschaum-colorers, and the women as moppers, as to which 
of the two shall perform the greater amount of work. The 
struggle has been going on for many years, but has never been 
decided, and never will be. 

The Church of St. Lawrence, more than four centuries old, 
has a magnificent organ, and contains the ashes of Admirals 
De Witt, Rortenaar, and Yanbrakel. The liouse in which 
Erasmus was born, in 146Y, is still preserved, and a bronze 
statue of the eminent theologian and writer adorns the market 
place. 

There is little to detain any one not interested in business 
in Rotterdam, unless he has made his advent into Holland at 
that point. In that event, the oddity of the city will hold 
him for some time. 



CHAPTER LXXII. 



BELGIUM. 




S Holland and Belgium were united until 
the revolution of 1830, one would naturally 
expect to find tlie customs, manners, and 
people of the two countries much alike. 
/'/■^ ^w^- v'- ^^ ^^^^ contrary, they are so dissimilar that 
^^i^ ^S^^^ it seems strange the two kingdoms could 
have remained so long together under the 
same laws and institutions. The Dutch and the Belgians re- 
semble each other in their industry, thrift, and energy ; but 
in their modes of thought, and in their temperamental ten- 
dencies, they reveal no kinship. The Belgians, as a nation, 
are less conservative, more excitable and restless than the Hol- 
landers, and, consequently, more inclined to change. 

The territory of Belgium is small, compared to that of the 
great European powers, being only about one eighth as large 
as Great Britain, while its entire population is little beyond 
5,000,000. What there is of soil, however, is made the most 
of. About two-thirds of the whole kingdom is under cultiva- 
tion, and nearly eight-ninths is put to profitable use. Of the 
nine provinces, those of South Brabant, the two Flanders, and 
Hainault look like a vast garden. The population, which is 
the densest in Europe, is composed of two distinct races — the 
, Flemish, who are of German, and the "Walloons, who are of 
French extraction. The former, who are much the more nu- 
merous, reside principally in Flanders ; but a great many of 
them live in the provinces of Antwerp, Limburg, and South 
Brabant. The Flemings speak a dialect of German, and the 



ANTWERP. 513 

"Walloons a corruption of French, including words and phrases 
from the Spanish and other languages. The government, like 
that of Holland, is a constitutional monarchy, based on the 
broadest principles of rational liberty. Punishment by death 
has been abolished, and freedom of the press, religious liberty, 
and trial by jury, have been established. The creed of the 
country is Roman Catholic, to which most of the people, at 
least outwardly, adhere ; but they have a degree of breadth, 
toleration, and individuality in their theology, which rarely 
prevails among the Latin nations. 

The difference between the Hollanders and the Belgians is 
well illustrated by Amsterdam and Antwerp. Both of them 
are strictly commercial cities, and long-time rivals. They have 
much the same interests and the same ends. Still, they im- 
press me as almost opposite in many things, and seem ani- 
mated by a noticeably dissimilar spirit. 

I first saw Antwerp during a Great National Exhibition, 
as it was called. It did not amount to much as an exhibition ; 
but all the provincialists crowded to it, and regarded it as 
something extraordinary, which was well for a stranger, as it 
furnished an ample field for observation. 

Antwerp is not so peculiar as Amsterdam, or other Holland 
towns ; but the average population, the majority of whom are 
Flemings, seem unlike the people of any other part of Europe. 
They are as attached to ancient customs as the Dutch ; and, 
speaking, for the most part, no language but their own, are 
little influenced by surrounding nationalities. The upper 
classes know French, and are generally urbane ; but the labor- 
ers and mechanics are natural even to rudeness They don't 
seem to have moved with the times, and impress me as not 
quite ci^dlized. Quiet, if not always good manners are so 
general on the Continent, that the boisterous spirit of the 
Flemings is very noticeable. They laugh and jeer at each 
other, and raise such an outcry in the public places, that I sev- 
eral times fancied I was near a political primary in one of the 
upper wards of New York. They are independent and in- 
dustrious, but entirely devoid of the graces, and sublimely in- 
different to the elegancies of life. 



6V4 A VERY CROOKED CITY. 

Their singular manners may be due to tlie beer they drink, 
by long odds the worst I ever tasted. The miserable stuff they 
call lager on the Island of Manhattan, is nectar by comparison. 
The Antwerp beer, to my palate, tastes like nothing else under 
the sun ; is thick, muddy, sour, acrid, mawkish, and might be 
wisely used in cases where nausea is desirable. I wish I had 
the recipe for making it. Whenever I hated a man, and did 
not wish to kill him, I'd invite him to drink a glass of Ant- 
werp beer. 

The city is crookeder than Boston, and must have been 
built, as that is said to have been, on cow-paths. It is almost 
impossible for a stranger to get about, or to find any given 
point without frequent attempts and frequent failures. I sev- 
eral times left my hotel, and, under the belief that I was con- 
stantly going away from it, discovered myself, after an hour's 
walking, back at the point of starting. There is little archi- 
tecture to speak of in the town, the churches excepted ; but 
the quaint old houses, six or seven stories high, running up to 
a point, with various evidences of their once Spanish owner- 
ship, are curious enough to make a ride or walk through the 
streets desirable. So much has been said of its picturesque- 
ness, that the city defeated my expectations. It is shaped like 
a bow, the walls forming the semicircle, and the river Scheldt 
the cord. The fortifications, which are very complete, are 
nearly three miles long, including the strong pentagonal Cita- 
del, built by the Duke of Alva. Antwerp reached its highest 
prosperity in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, when it was 
the commercial centre of Europe. It then contained 200,000 
people ; 500 vessels daily entered its port, and 2,500 ordinarily 
lay there at anchor. It has been besieged, sacked, and cap- 
tured again and again, and has greatly declined since the mid- 
dle ages ; but of late years it has acquired a new growth and 
impetus, and now boasts of a population of 130,000, with a 
promising future once more. Of its 200 tortuous streets, the 
Place de Meir is the finest, and its 'squares are often spacious 
and pleasant. 

Of the docks, dock-yards, and basins, constructed by Napo- 



NOTRE DAME AND ITS CIIUIES. 575 

leon, at an expense of $10,000,000, only the basins were pre- 
served from the demolition that followed his downfall. They 
are now converted into docks lined with large warehonses, and 
the harbor thns formed, capacious enough to admit ships of 
any size, and easily accommodating 1,000 vessels, is one of the 
best on the globe. 

The churches are, as a class, quite handsome, not to say 
magnificent. The Cathedral of Notre Dame has a beautiful 
Gothic spire, estimated from 400 to 4:()Q feet, but certainly one 
of the very highest in Europe. The chimes include ninety- 
three bells, the largest weighing nine tons, and the smallest 
only one hundred pounds. I know of none superior to them. 
Their tone is very soft, and their time unusually exact. They 
are hung so high you hear the music without realizing its 
source. The melody seems floating in the air, and is very 
pleasant, unless you hear too much of it. The view from the 
tower is admirable. 

INotre Dame is remarkable for its paintings by Rubens — 
" The Descent from the Cross," " The Elevation of the Cross," 
" The Assumption of the Virgin," and " The Resurrection of 
the Saviour." 

The first is thought by many to be his chef d'muvre, and 
I can recall none of his works that are better. Still, it has his 
usual defects — coarseness, incorrect drawing, and confusion of 
outline. The corpse of Jesus is admirable in its anatomy, its 
supine, heavy helplessness ; but the face is insignificant — 
totally unlike the ideal conception of the Saviour. The two 
Marys are more refined in appearance than Rubens's women 
generally, but their expression conveys well-bred regret, rather 
than heart-broken sori'ow and overwhelming desolation. 

"The Elevation of the Cross" is in some respects superior 
to the " Descent," and the coloring is excellent. The '* As- 
sumption " and " Resurrection " are not superior to many of 
the artist's paintings. 

It is a pity both of Rubens's wives were so fleshy and gross 
in person, since he perpetually reproduced them. Instead of 
seeking an ideal, he copied the actual. He fancied, strangely 



576 PAINTINGS BY RUBENS. 

enough, that his corpulent spouses were models of beauty, and, 
consequently, we have their huge breasts, and flaxen hair, and 
over-liberal limbs, in every picture the uxorious husband drew. 
There is something singular in his employing his genius on 
Scriptural subjects. He should have confined himself to 
Aj)hrodites of vast avoirdupois, to wanton nymphs and fawns, 
to lascivious Satyrs and sensual Silenuses. 

The Church of St. Jacques is imposing in appearance, and 
rich in marbles. The " Crucifixion," by Yandyke, adorns the 
walls, and is one of his best paintings ; and the "• Scourging 
of Christ," by Hubens, is well worthy of admiration. Ku- 
bens's tomb is there, and is the principal object of attraction. 

St. Paul's has a coarse representation, in wood, of Calvary 
and Purgatory, which many of the Catholics seem to admire. 
If they do, it is less creditable to their taste than to their zeal. 
St. Augustine and the Church of the Jesuits are noticeable 
edifices internally as well as externally, the former containing 
thfe celebrated altar-piece, by Kubens, of " The Marriage of 
St. Catharine." 

The rapidity of Rubens' s execution is shown by the receipt 
at Mechlin, in the Church of Notre Dame. The receipt, dated 
March 12, 1624, is for eight pictures (among them the " Mirac- 
ulous Draught of fishes," and the "Worship of the Magi") 
done in eighteen days, for eighteen hundred florins. 

The house in which Pubens died, in a street named after 
the painter, is frequently visited by those interested in art. 
The house is commodious and comfortable, considering the 
time of its erection — nearly three centuries ago — and was, no 
doubt, regarded then as a sumptuous mansion. After the 
death of the eminent painter, the Duke of Newcastle resided 
there, and entertained, under his roof, Charles II., while that 
royal rowdy was in exile. 

The Zoological Garden of Antwerp has one of the larg- 
est and best collections of birds and animals in Europe. It 
is on the whole superior to the Jardin d'Accliraatation in 
Paris, and not a whit inferior to the collection in the Regent's 
Park, London. 



THE NATIONAL FONDNESS FOR MUSIC. 577 

The old city has endeared itself to many feminine hearts 
by the excellent quality of its black silk, which is a specialty 
there. Yery few women who go to Antwerp leave it without 
carrying with them a memento of the place in the shape of 
material for a new gown. 

Travelling in Belgium is both cheap and convenient, on 
account of the admirable system of railways established there, 
before they were introduced into any other country on the 
Continent. The fare is the lowest in the world — hardly more 
than one third of the price charged in Great Britain. 

The Belgians as a people are much gayer than their Dutch 
neighbors, having an inordinate fondness for music and danc- 
ing. Musical festivals are held every year at Antwerp, Ghent, 
and Bruges, at which amateur performers contend for prizes 
awarded to the most skilful and accomplished. At such times 
there la great emulation among the people of the different 
provinces and districts, and those who win prizes receive the 
most tumultuous ovations. The victorious musicians are often 
mounted on platforms, and borne through the streets in pro- 
cession, with flags, banners, and devices, amid the wildest shout- 
ing and yelling of the crowd. The first demonstration I saw 
of this sort I mistook for a mob. I followed the throng for a 
long distance, expecting every minute that its uproarious mem- 
bers would stop before some house and undertake its demolition. 
I could not comprehend that any mass of human beings could 
be so excited and make such an outcry without having a griev- 
ance, and when I learned that all the ado was in honor of a 
man who had played on a fiddle or a clarionet, I felt that the 
effect was altogether disproportioned to the cause. 

So far as din and clatter go, the Belgians are in striking 
contrast to the Hollanders, who are unusually quiet, while the 
Flemings and "Walloons seem to me the noisiest, on the smallest 
provocation, of any people in the Old "World. 

The Belgians, still more than the Germans, appear to have 
a national love of music. Even the laboring classes have con- 
siderable skill in mastering instruments, and most of them 
have naturally good voices. I have heard peasants wallcing 
37 



578 A MERRY PEOPLE. 

along the liighways, and working in the fields, singing so 
sweetly and accurately as to arrest at once any cultivated ear. 
It is to this appreciation of melody, no doubt, that the numer- 
ous chimes of Belgium owe their origin. ITo considerable city 
in the country is without these carillons, which from tower 
and spire fling out their soft music at almost every hour of the 
day and night. 

The lower and middle classes are greatly addicted to balls, 
given on summer evenings in the gardens of the public houses in 
the suburbs of the towns. A large platform is made for the 
dancers, who go through the measiu-es with a fervor and vigor 
seldom equalled, and never surpassed. Again and again, watch- 
ing the men and w^omen at these garden entertainments, I have 
been lost in wonder that they would work so hard without lib- 
eral compensation. They not only dance themselves crimson 
and moist, but they often sacrifice manners and clothes in the 
ardor and exaltation of their exercise. Even the unrestrained 
bacchants of the Closerie scarcely excel the Belgians, whirling 
through the late hours of the night, flushed with excitement 
and beer. 

The tourist finds in Belgium much less monotony than in 
Holland. Though level and low toward the north and west, 
it is rugged and rather high on the southeast, in the region of 
the Ardennes, with whose forests Shakespeare, though he never 
saw them, has made us so familiar. !Nearly one fifth of the 
whole kingdom is wooded, mainly Luxemburg and Namur, 
where the forests are very dense. In the provinces of Antwerp 
and Limburg, is a vast expanse of woodland, called Campine, 
so sterile that hardly anything but common heather and lichen 
will grow upon it. With the exception of those two districts, 
agriculture, owing to the extraordinary economy and industry 
of the people, flourishes everywhere. The Belgians were once 
regarded, and still deserve to be regarded, to a certain extent 
as the model farmers of Europe. So unsparing of labor and so 
painstaking, it is not strange that with their agriculture, their 
rich mines, their manufactures, and their commerce, they have 
always prospered under circumstances which are the opposite 
of favorable. 



THE CITY OF LJEGE. 579 

Going to see Liege (situated in tlie eastern part of the 
kingdom, in the middle of a plain surrounded by mountains, 
and at the junction of the Meuse and Ourthe) is easier to talk 
of than to do, from the fact that the town is always enveloped 
in smoke. It may well be called the Birmingham of Belgium, 
for it is almost entirely a manufacturing city, and has few nat- 
ural or artificial attractions. The picturesqueness which one 
finds in so many of the Belgian towns is wholly. lacking there. 
The streets are narrow and dirty, often steep, while the build- 
ings are dingy, dreary, and so high as to exclude both air and 
sunshine. The great staple of manufacture is iron, and the 
specialties are fire-arms and machinery, in which it surpasses 
France, and nearly rivals England. Several of its quays are 
ornamented with shade-trees, and serve with its ten or twelve 
public squares for promenades. The Church of St. Jacques is 
large and handsome, and the tracery and fret-work of its in- 
terior are not excelled anywhere. Liege has a number o^ 
suburbs and adjoining villages, all devoted to manufactures 
of one kind or another, and with these has a population of 
about 120,000. It was founded in the sixth century, and has 
been prominent in history, having been besieged and captured 
by the Duke of Brabant, Charles the Bold, Marshal Boufflers 
and the Duke of Marlborough. In the middle ages the re- 
peated conflicts between the citizens and their Bishops, and 
between the Bishops and the Dukes of Burgundy, imbued the 
old town with a good deal of romance, of which Walter Scott 
took advantage in his " Quentin Durward." But machinery, 
manufactures, and mere money-making have brought Liege 
down to the level of nineteenth century practicality, and dis- 
pelled every vestige of the picturesque past. On the whole, I 
was hardly repaid for the trouble of going there ; for all the 
sights of the city are obscure, and in such an atmosphere sen- 
sations are impossible. 



CHAPTER LXXIII. 



GHENT AND THE GANT0I8. 




;IIENT is associated with American history by 
the treaty concluded there December 24, 1814, 
which ended the war between Great Britain and 
the United States. Moreover, Motley has done 
so much by his eloquent history, to render Bel- 
gium attractive, that one might suppose our countrymen would 
haunt its ancient cities from a feeling akin to patriotism. They 
are prone to think, however, after looking at Brussels, which 
is Paris seen through the reversed end of a telescope,, and, 
possibly, after dashing through the crooked, almost circular, 
streets of Antwerp, that they have exhausted all that is notable 
and curious in Flanders. They either forget, or are too indif- 
ferent to remember, that Bruges, Ghent, Ypres, and Mechlin 
more thoroughly represent the old spirit and time than any of 
the other cities. Few who have tarried in those quaint cor- 
ners of civilization but will recollect their sojourn as both pleas- 
ant and profitable. 

That many persons confound Holland and Belgium is not 
at all odd. Bruges and Ghent, with their fortifications, canals, 
and bridges, vividly recall Leyden and Amsterdam ; while the 
Flemings, though in many respects, as I have said, very un- 
like, show striking resemblances to the Dutch. 

Ghent is certainly a unique city. Its situation, at once jje- 
culiar and picturesque, is at the confluence of the Lys and the 
Scheldt, on the Terneuzen canal, communicating with the sea. 
It occupies a triangle of the fertile plain ; is surrounded by 
walls and entered by gates, with numerous canals dividing it 
into twenty-six islands, connected with each other by ninety 



THE FLEMINGS. 681 

bridges, great and small. The city boasts of its fine prome- 
nades, the chief of them, the Coupure, between rows of hand- 
some trees, skirting the Bruges canal. Strangers may be par- 
doned for not admiring the promenades so much as the natives, 
who, for centuries, have cheerfully borne the delusion that 
Ghent is one of the most beautiful and delightful places in 
either hemisphere. 

In some of the older quarters of the town, the streets are 
dark and very narrow; but the houses, with gable fronts, 
rising tier above tier, look so fantastic, so unlike anything we 
have at home, that it is easy to elevate the picturesque above 
the merely pleasant, and receive mental gratification therefrom. 
On the whole, however, the city is well and very substantially 
built, containing a number of public squares, among which 
the principal are the Cauter, planted with lime trees; St. 
Pierre, used for reviews and military exercises ; St. Pharailde 
—the gate of the Castle of the Counts of Flanders still stands 
there— and the Recollets, flanked by conspicuous mansions 
and large hotels. The most notable of the squares is the 
Vrydags Market (Friday market), where the counts of Flan- 
ders were once inaugurated, and the famous trades unions for- 
merly assembled, where Jacques Yon Arterelde first aroused 
the popular tumults by which he finally perished, and where 
the infamous Duke of Alva kindled and fed the fires of the 
Inquisition. The markets— held every Friday, as the name in- 
dicates — furnish excellent opportunities for observing tlie man- 
ners and studying the character of the people. 

The Flemings seem quite dififerent from any of the nation- 
alities of the Continent. They have the industry and energy 
of the Dutch, the versatility and sensibility of the Italians, 
the violence and obstinacy of the Spaniards, and the vanity 
and excitability of the French. They have always appeared 
to me the most variable and emotional people in Europe. I 
have known them to laugh, and talk, and weep, and rage, all 
in one breath. With a large basis of character and firmness, 
they show themselves, at times, as mercurial as quicksilver, 
and as unstable as water. 



582 THE MARKET-PLACE. 

The market-place at Ghent is ilkistrative of the Flemings, 
as history reveals them. Their talk and jests, their chaffer- 
ings and bickerings, show clearly enough that their ancestors 
might have sided with Louis of Crecy to-day, and the Ruwaert 
to-morrow. Humor and irritability are theirs to a large de- 
gree ; and one never feels sure that what they begin in a joke, 
they may not end with a quarrel. Yery little, if any, of the 
German or Teutonic element is perceptible in their nature ; and 
yet they have the sturdiness, and many of the sterling qualities 
belonging to that race. The Flemings seem to have been in- 
fluenced and moulded less by the homogeneous tendencies of 
the present century than any of their neighbors. There is 
still a middle-age savor and suggestion about them, which 
brings back the battle of Bruges, the defeat of Peter du Bois, 
the surrender of Ypres, and the desperate struggle of Bos- 
becque. 

Many of the provincialists who carry their products and 
wares, especially linens, to market, look in their quaint and fre- 
quently fanciful costumes as if they had stepped out of the four- 
teenth or fifteenth century to light their pipes, or chatter ram- 
blingly in the ancient square. At the Friday market, the tourist 
can see more of the characteristics and idiosyncrasies of the Flem- 
ings than anywhere else in Belgium. One of the curiosities 
in the neighborhood is a large cannon, ten feet in circumfer- 
ence, nineteen feet long, and three feet in diameter at the 
mouth, called Dulle Griete (Mad Margaret), and supposed to 
be a near relative of the Mons Meg at Edinburgh Castle. 

The principal buildings are the Church of St. Nicolas, the 
oldest in Ghent ; St. Michael, containing a fine Crucifixion by 
Yandyke ; St. Pierre, notable for its handsome dome, and St. 
Bavon, a vast, though somewhat ungraceful and richly decora- 
ted cathedral. The Belfroi (Belfry), a high square tower crown- 
ed with a gilt dragon, has a clock, several large bells, and a 
very musical chime, which some persons prefer to the more 
famous chimes of Bruges and Antwerp, 

The Beguinage, surrounded by a wall and moat, is a nun- 
nery_, in whose cloisters are immured six or seven hundred wo- 



THE BEGUINAOE. 583 

men who believe that by an unnatural and over-rigorons life 
of seclusion they have consecrated themselves to Heaven. 
Their vows have now ceased to be compulsory. They can 
return to the world when they please, and consequently none 
of them avail themselves of the privilege. Some of the nuns 
are said to belong to the best families of the kingdom. From 
supremely religious fervor, or from mismanagement of their af- 
fections, they have surrendered pride of place and position in 
society to mutter prayers and tell their rosaries, in hope of 
forgetting the melancholy past, and achieving a blessed future. 

Any one would mistake the Beguinage for a castle ; and it 
may have been built under the conviction — not wholly irra- 
tional — that those inside want to get out, and that those outside 
wish to get in. The Beguin nuns are not too absorbed by 
spiritual duties to devote part of their time to the working of lace 
and embroidery, remarkable for the delicacy of its texture and 
the beauty of its finish, and which, though sold from the nun- 
nery at a small figure, commands in Paris, London and New 
York the highest price. 

The new theatre is handsome and commodious. The lit- 
erary, scientific, artistic, and charitable institutions are numer- 
ous. The Societe Matrimoniale has for its object the legiti- 
mation of what the French call enfants d' amour, and is one 
of the most benevolent enterprises in Ghent. Its members — 
made up, I have understood, from the best families in thfe city — 
have done a vast deal of good by bringing about the marriage 
of the parents of the unfortunate offspring who would other- 
wise be abandoned to the cold charities of the world. They 
make it their business to discover the paternity of the infants, 
and the circumstances under which they were born, and ex- 
haust all the means of moral suasion to strengthen the frailties 
of the fathers and mothers by wedlock. Delicate and doubtful 
as such a mission seems, the success that has attended it has 
been as gratifying as it might be unexpected. 

The extent of its cotton manufactures, employing some 
$10,000,000 of capital, and over 30,000 workmen, has given 
Ghent the name of the Belgian Manchester. Its other manu- 



584 THE GANTOIS. 

faetures, especially of Flemisli linen — some 20,000 pieces are 
oflfered for sale at the market every Friday — are very large 
and important, and the annual fairs are attended by Dutch, 
French, English, German, and even Italian merchants, in great 
numbers. 

Celebrated as Ghent has been in history, its origin is un- 
certain. The first known of it as a town was in the seventh 
century, though it does not seem to have acquired importance 
for nearly five hundred years after, when it aspired to promi- 
nence, and completed its fortifications. At that time it occupied 
only the space between the Lys and Scheldt ; but, toward the 
close of the thirteenth century, it was almost as populous as it 
is now. Of late years it has greatly improved, and the Gantois 
at present claim that they number 150,000 souls. It was so 
much larger then than Paris, that Charles Y., who was born 
there, might have said, had he been alive, as he said nearly 
two centuries later — ^^ Je mettrais Paris dans mon Gant 
(Gand)." * Few cities have been the scene of more turbu- 
lence and fighting. Its citizens for several centuries were en- 
gaged in civil discords and foreign wars, and their courage was 
seldom abated by the greatest suffering or the most disastrous 
defeat- Even when Charles Y. was at the height of his power, 
greater and stronger than any monarch since Charlemagne, 
the Gantois did not hesitate to resist with arms the exaction of 
his subsidy, and were dreadfully punished for their audacity. 
The Citadel, which is still one of the most conspicuous objects 
in the town, the subdued Gantois were compelled to erect at 
their own expense, though they knew it was designed to keep 
them in an odious subjection. 

Ghent is extremely peaceful now, and seems to be as much 
surrendered to trade and commerce as it has been in the past to 
riot and revolution, conspiracy and bloodshed. But, amid its 
factories and warehouses, its breweries and machine-shops, its 
bustling streets and crowded wharves, the virtues of the an- 
.cient burgesses, and the spirit of the Arteveldes still survive. 

* " I could put Paris into my glove (Ghent)." 



CHAPTER LXXiy. 



BRUGES AND BRUSSELS. 




O quit Belgium without going to Bruges 
would not indicate a traveller's wisdom, for 
this town, with Antwerp and Ghent, com- 
pletes the trio of the most interesting cities. 
Like Ghent, Bruges retains so much of its 
mediaeval character, that it can hardly fail 
to enchain the attention, and stir the mem- 
ory of the most careless tourist. Scarcely any one 
in entering it but will recall Southey's lines of apos- 
trophe : 

Fair city, worthy of her ancient fame, 
The season of her splendor has gone by ; 

Yet everywhere its monuments remain. 
Temples which rear their stately heads on high. 

Canals that intersect the fertile plain — 

Wide streets and squares, with many a court and hall. 
Spacious and undefaced ; — but ancient all." 

The first object I sought was the famous Halles with the 
Gothic Beltry, a lofty tower standing in the Grande Place, 
the principal square of the town, and considered the finest 
structure of the kind in all Europe. The Belfry has fifty 
bells, ranging from six tons in weight to a few hundred pounds, 
which are played by means of an immense cylinder communi- 
cating with the clock. As these chimes are rung four times 
an hour, they seem to be sounding incessantly. They are 
very sweet in tone, and rank higher in musical reputation than 
any of the famous carillons of the kingdom. They have such 



586 THE FAMOUS BELFRY. 

a peculiar, dreamy and tranquillizing effect as tlieir melody 
comes and goes with the changing breeze, that it seems I 
should never tire of them. I might alter my opinion, how- 
ever, if I were a permanent resident instead of a mere loiterer 
in the immediate neighborhood. On festival days, a profes- 
sional musician, regularly employed for the purpose, performs 
exquisite airs on the chimes by striking on immense keys. His 
hands are covered with thick leather, and the work is said to 
be so hard that he is compelled to stop every quarter of an 
hour from excessive fatigue. 

Bruges takes its name from its bridges, of which there are 
some iifty crossing the canal. Nearly all the prominent build- 
ings are Gothic, built in the fourteenth century, and decorated 
with sculpture and paintings. One of the most conspicuous 
of these is the Cathedral of Notre Dame, in which Charles the 
Bold is buried. Other notable structures are the Church of 
St. Sauveur, the Palace of Justice, the Hospital of St. John, 
and the Hotel de Yille. The last contains a public library 
with many rare and valuable manuscripts. The scheme of a 
lottery drawn in Bruges in 1445 is to be seen there, which 
makes it probable that this species of gambling originated in 
Belgium. At one of the windows of the Hotel, the old Flem- 
ish Counts took the oath of allegiance to the laws. 

The Church of Jerusalem, founded by Pierre Adorner, 
contains an exact representation of the supposed tomb of 
Christ in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. 

In the council chamber of the Palace of Justice is a curi- 
ous chimney-piece with life-sized figures of Charles V., the 
Emperor Maximilian, Charles the Bold, and his wife Margaret 
of York. 

An excellent institution is the Mont de Piete, not a mere 
pawnbroker's office, as the name usually implies on the Conti- 
nent, but a benevolent establishment where the poor, by pledg- 
ing securities, can obtain money at a low rate of interest. It 
is indeed a Mount of Piety which ought to be reproduced in 
every town of any size on both sides of the Atlantic. It does 
incalculable good in Bruges, and is a practical charity whose 
excellence it is difficult to over-estimate. 



PAST AND FEE SENT. 687 

Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, instituted in that 
city in 1430 the Order of the Golden Fleece out of compli- 
ment to the Flemish weavers who had brought their manufac- 
ture of wool to such a state of perfection. 

In the Cathedral of Kotre Dame (its lofty tower can be 
seen, it is said, on very clear days, from the mouth of the 
Thames, tlrough I doubt if any day was ever clear enough for 
that), in the Hospital of St. John, the Church of St. Sauveur, 
and the Academy of Paintings, are many fine pictm-es, the 
best of which are by Memling, Yan Eyck (to any one who 
admires their style of art), Yandyke, and others of the Flem- 
ish school. 

When I left Cologne, I supposed I had gotten rid of the 
eleven thousand virgins of St. Ursula ; but I found the absurd 
fable commemorated in Bruges by paintings on the side of the 
coflSn, presumed to contain the arm of that much massacred 
lady, which is kept as a precious relic in the Hospital of St. 
John. 

The convent of the Beguin nuns, similar to, but much 
smaller than that of Ghent, is in the city. Convents and mon- 
asteries, once very numerous, have been mostly suppressed 
thea'e, as in other centres of Koman Catholicism. A number 
of the old monasteries in different quarters have long been de- 
serted, and are crumbling to decay ; while others have been 
devoted to what is known as secular, meaning more valuable 
and desirable, uses. 

Bruges was fortified by Count Baldwin of the Iron Arm 
in 837, and walled some two centuries after. During the 
Hanse League it was the leading market of middle northern 
Europe, and became very rich and prosperous. Injured by 
success, as the Flemings always were in their early history, 
they waxed insolent and turbulent, and toward the close of 
the fifteenth century they rebelled against Duke Maximilian ; 
threw him into prison, and suffered severely by the measures of 
suppression adopted against them. The odious Duke of Alva 
completed their misfortunes, and many of their best artisans 
sought safety and employment in England. 



588 THE FEMININE PASSION FOR LACE. 

Bruges lias in tura been tlie asylum of two of the fugitive 
English Kings, of Edward lY., when the war of the Roses 
drove him from his kingdom, and of Charles II., in his com- 
pulsory exile. The house inhabited by the Merry Monarch 
still stands on the south side of the great square, at the corner 
of the Rue St. Arnaud ; and when I saw it last, it bore the 
sign " Au Lion Beige." 

The population of Bruges, in its palmy days, was 225,000. 
Now — and it has grown materially within a few years — it has 
not, at the outside, more than 55,000. 

Brussels would be interesting if one had not seen the French 
capital, which the Belgian city has imitated in everything. 
Brussels is proud of its reputation as the miniature Paris, of 
its French manners, French customs, French toilettes, and even 
of its French affectations. The Belgians resident there claim 
that they speak purer French than the Parisians, just as the 
Irish of Dublin insist that their English is better than that of 
the Londoners, which might be without any alarming approach 
to perfection. The principal attraction of the place to women 
is, that Mechlin and Brussels laces can be had in the latter city 
on advantageous terms. The feminine mind seems somewhat 
deranged on the subject of laces ; but the derangement is 
harmless — except to the pocket-book. I don't think any 
woman could be quite happy in a world where laces could not 
be purchased ; and they so abound in Brussels that many of 
the sex might be content to spend their lives there. I have 
for years endeavored to discover the mysterious fascination of 
Mechlin, Grammont, Brussels, Point, and Valenciennes, but it 
is quite beyond me. I understand it through sympathy, how- 
ever, and if I were an angler for feminine souls, I should bait 
my hook with the rarest and most expensive lace I could 
find. There are various factories in Brussels, in which women 
are exclusively employed. To put the poor creatures to work 
over laces they cannot possess is tantalizing and cruel to the 
last degree. 

Belgium is an excellent field for shopping, and when vis- 
ited by women, is devoted to purchases, very much as it has 



THE MANNIKm. 589 

been devoted to fighting by the transatlantic nations, who have 
made it the battle-field of Europe. 

Brussels, the capital and metropolis of the kingdom, is 
handsomely situated on the river Senne. The principal portion 
is built on a hill, and from a western point of view reminds me 
somewhat of Genoa or Naples. The old town, which is in 
the lower part, has narrow, crooked streets, and few attrac- 
tions ; but the new town is elegantly laid out, and has numer- 
ous squares, the most noted, the Place Royale, the Place de la 
Monnaie, and the Place des Martyres. The old fortifications 
have been razed, and on their site are beautiful boulevards and 
promenades, shaded with linden trees, and running around 
the city to the distance of nearly five miles. The Hotel de 
Yille, in the lower town, is a noble Gothic structure, with a spire 
of open stonework, 370 feet high. It was erected in 1400, and 
in 1555 its grand hall was the scene of the abdication of 
Charles Y. From the tower an excellent view can be had, 
you are told, of the field of Waterloo. This, however, is a 
mere deception to aid the sacristan or some one of his numer- 
ous assistants to obtain an extra franc. I tried the experiment, 
and I succeeded, though not before I had engaged a carriage 
and driven beyond the historic village. 

Many of the churches are imposing, — the finest of them is 
the Cathedral of St. Gudule, six centuries old, — and contain 
fine sculptures and paintings. 

Of the many fountains in the city the most celebrated is 
the Mannikin, at the corner of a street near the Hotel de Yille. 
This is the bronze figure of a small boy, more naturally than 
modestly occupied, to which the citizens are so much attached 
that then* feeling almost amoimts to veneration. On festival 
days, they are in the habit of dressing the little urchin in uni- 
form, and tricking him out in a variety of costumes. The 
common people are superstitious in regard to the Mannikin, 
regarding it in some mysterious way as the palladium of their 
liberty, and the guarantee of their privileges. 

Brussels enjoys all the advantages of a metropolis ; has 
picture-galleries, Hbraries, scientific and literary institutes, and 



590 WATERLOO. 

valuable collections of various sorts. Indeed, it would be, as I 
have said, a most interesting and delightful city, were it not 
such a copy in miniature of Paris, and were it not determined 
to sneeze whenever the French capital takes snuff. 

Before the Rebellion, Waterloo seemed to Americans to 
have been a great battle ; but since then, having had so much 
fighting on their own soil on a more extensive scale, they are 
less interested in the contest by which Bonaparte lost his 
power and his throne. The exact merits of that memorable 
struggle will always be regarded differently by the English, 
Prussians, and French ; but the victory, to unbiased nations, 
does not seem so glorious when it is remembered that 140,000 
men, with 380 pieces of cannon, defeated an army of 75,000, 
with only 240 guns. 

Waterloo is always associated with Brussels. Everybody 
remembers, and too many persons quote the stereotyped 
stanza of Byron, " There was a sound of revelry by night," 
etc. I have no special fondness for battle-fields, perhaps be- 
cause I have seen how they are made ; but I could not 
resist the inclination to visit the spot on which Napoleon 
was beaten by circumstances, rather than by Wellington, who, 
as a captain, does not deserve to be mentioned on the same 
day with the victor of Jena and Austerlitz. I supposed I 
should not be repaid for my trouble, and I was not.» The 
ground is rolling, and well calculated for a grand fight, the 
various hillocks serving very well to cover the reserves of the 
allies. I looked in vain for the sunken road of Ohaine, or any 
trace of it. That is a melodramatic invention of Hugo, and 
he makes effective use of it in his really brilliant description of 
the great contest. 

If Grouchy had engaged Blucher, as he was appointed to 
do, instead of losing his way, as he declared he did, and for 
which there was no excuse, the result of the battle would have 
been different. Napoleon had calculated correctly, and had 
victory in his hands ; but he could not foresee blunders — or 
treachery — and so was defeated when he had most reason to 
expect a glorious triumph. 



ANNOYING GUIDES. 591 

The guides are a nuisance of the first water, and I peremp- 
torily declined to avail myself of their energetically proffered 
services. If you have any idea of the field when you go upon 
the ground, they drive it out of your head by their polyglot 
jabbering about positions, generals, corps, cavalry, artillery, 
infantry, and a number of terms they do not understand. The 
impostors who vend " mementos " of Waterloo are a greater 
source of annoyance than the guides. The bullets, fragments 
of shell, canes, etc., which they offer for sale, are made, it is 
well known, in a small town near Brussels ; and yet many 
persons are foolish enough to buy them, corroborating the 
proverb respecting the facility of divorce between a fool and 
his finances. 

There is nothing very remarkable on the battle-field, which 
is now carefully cultivated, and, when I saw it, bore a plen- 
tiful crop of corn. The farms of Hougoumont and Belle Alli- 
ance, the monuments to the Hanoverians and to Col. Gordon, 
the Lion of Waterloo, and the monument of the Lion, from 
the summit of which the best view is obtained, are the places 
and objects usually visited by tourists, who seldom quit the 
field with any clearer idea than they had before visiting it, of 
the most decisive combat of modem times. 

Having conducted the reader, by a very circuitous and 
perhaps a very tedious route from New York to Waterloo, I 
kindly leave him here, with the comfort and consolation that 
at last he has reached 



THE END. 



NEW ILLUSTRATED MONTHLY. 



CHEAPEST PAPER IN THE 'WORLD. 




A large 8 page Illustrated Journal, devoted to Literature, Agriculture, Domes- 
tic Economy, Wit and Ilumor. One of the most interesting and popular papers 
of the age is sent to subscribers one year for 

ONE DOLLAR. ONE DOLLAR. 

To each subscriber is sent at once on receipt of subscription price ($1.00), 
one of the followiua: 



PREMIUJIS. 



PREMIUMS. 



PREMIUMS. 



A fine steel line eno-ravino: of 



STUART'S ^VASHINGTON, 

full length, from the original ])ninting hy Odbriel Stuart, 1797. 
The finest and most renowned painting of Washington extant. Value 
$2.50. Or the beautiful chromo called 



THE 



RIAL OF THE B! 



Being a gem of a picture worth three times the cost of the xchole. 
We employ the best writers, — in fact, no other paper in the Union has such 
a combination of them. 

MABK TWAIJS^ 

writes for it. 

JOJELX HAY 

Avrites for it. 

Mev. JOHW TODD 

writes for it. 

And scores of other talented authors. 

The sheet is filled with original matter, and is one of the handsomest of 
its kind, as well as one of the most valuable. 

If you wish to see one of the finest paj^crs in the country, filled with the 
choicest reading matter, send for sample of The Puelisher, which will be sent 
to any one enclosing us two cents to prepay postage. 

Liberal club rates and good commissions given to agents. 

Book premiums given. This is a rare chance for men, women, and children, 
invalids and others, to get popular and valuable books at the cost of a little 
trouble. Children can get up clubs easily, and receive beautiful books for 
themselves, or cash commissions. 

Send for samples or agencies to 

AMERICAN PUBLISHING CO., 

Hartford, Conn. 



SELLmG BOOKS BY SUBSCRIPTION 

THE mmm pyBLSsniNG oomp. 

— OF — 

H^VRTFOKID, CONN., 

Are engaged in the publication of rare and valuable 
Selling them bj 

SUBSCRIPTION ONLY- 



^ »■ » ■» »i 



By this method they reach directly the whole reading public, 
multiply their sales ten fold, and place the works in the hands of 
thousands whose attention otherwise would not be called to them. 
This enables the publishers not only to give honorable and remu- 
nerative employment to a very large class of worthy persons act- 
ing as agents, but to expend largely upon their books in their prep- 
aration and publication, to illustrate them profusely and to sell 
them at much lower prices than works of equal cost are sold by 
the regular trade. They also are enabled by this method to main- 
tain an uniformity of price throughout the country, and to see 
that all subscribers receive what they actually contract for. 

THE AMERICAN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

have universally given better books than they promised. They 
look back with gratification over their list, and the unqualified praise 
each volume has received from the press and the public. They 
publish nothing but books worthy a place in the libraries of the 
educated and the refined; and such books, by their system of 
agents, they bring to the direct notice of almost every person in 
the country. No recommendations are given to the public except 
those sent from voluntary sources; and no unworthy mcap.s are 
taken to procure them. 

We Want Agents Througliont the Country. 

The sale of our works is an honorable and praiseworthy em- 
ployment, and is particularly adapted to disabled Soldiers, aged 
and other Clergymen having leisure hours. Teachers and Students 
during vacation, &c.. Invalids unable to endure hard physical labor. 
Young Men who wish to travel and gather knowledge and experi- 
ence by contact with the world, and all who can bring industry, 
perseverance, and a determined will to the work. Woiyien tvho 
can devote time to the ivork, often make the best of co.nvassers. Our 
lerms to agents are very liberal ; we give exclusive territory to 
operate in ; Catalogues and Circulars sent free upon application. 
Address AMEEICAIJ PUBLISHING CO., Hartford, Conn. 






Um PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 




BY 



ARK TWAIN. 




A Large and Handsome Octavo Volume of over 650 pages. 
WITH 234 SPIRITED AND APPEOPEIATE EITGRAYIlTGg! 

"ThebookisaGolcondaof wit; a very mine of sparkling entertainment." 

— [New York Express. iv i^o., ^. „ 

' *• Very few will be ^We to read it without laughing at least nail the time. 
— {Earl ford {Ct.) CouratU. ^ x„ r,- ^ y 

" His latest work is his best, as it is his most elaborate effort."— [iNew iw« 

Leader. , . ^ , ,, nr t 7 

" It is an oasis in the desert of works on foreign travel."— [i\ew lork 

Herald. , ... , ,, ... c ^.^ 

He sees Fale^ir.e with eyes wide open and with a full appreciation ot the 
Holy Land as it was and \s.— Missionary tlrrakl. „ , ^ ,, 

♦' Buy this book, say we, and, our word for it, you will not regret the 
outlay." — [New Jtr.sey Juur7ial. . 

" Beautifully printed, and swarming with illustrations, which, m their way, 
areas elleclive hiKlarausinu- as tlio letter-press." — [^'ew York Tunes. 

" The descriptive passages are among the finest in the English language. 

—\Ncicark(y. J.) Jl&jistei:'] ^ . , t, .. .. c • ^ 

" It abounds in historical and Icgendaiy lore."— [T7i« Central Baptist, Saint 

Louis, Mo. . . , , 1 J 

" It is fresh, racy, and sparkling as a glass of iced champagne— and a good 
deal better for the health and digestion."— [//aW/ord (C<.) Times. _ 

" The book must be taken in interrupted doses. There is more fun in it 
than it is safe to swallow at once."— AejcarA- (K J.) Daily Advertiser. _ 

" Buy it. and you will bless Mark Twain to the end ot your existence." 
— [Mohawk, Valley lier/isitr, 

^-.d.-.* 

Styles and Prices. 

In Fine Enqlish Cloth, Beveled, Spiunkled Edges, , , . . §3 50 

In Fine English Cloth, Beveled, Gilt Edges, 4 00 

In Plain Leather, Libkakt Style, . • ^ ^0 

In Half Calf or Mokocco, Beveled, ^00 

"This work is offcrd by the publishei-s, tlirough their agents, by sttb- 
SCRTPTioN ONLY. Its po^iulanty lias induced certain book-sellers to use dishon- 
orable means to obtain it, sueii as tampering with onr agents, and prevailing on 
some to prove faithless to us and furnish books to them ; employing dishonest 
men t) engage with us as agents, orde^ and obtain boolvs and deliver to them, 
<tc , Ac, By these mctliods they obtain a limited quantity. 

INTAKE Notice: All copies of of ' The Innocents Abroad' offered in book- 
stores (with perhaps now and then an exceptional one, which may lind its way 
there legitimately) hm^e been obtained Jrmn us or onr agents by fraudulent repre- 
sentations or deceit. -We ask the public not to conntenance these operators, but 
to purchase the work only ol our agents."— [-Iz/ieHca^t rablishuig Co., Ilartfvid. 

AGENTS WANTED. 

APPLY TO 

AMERICAN PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

Hartford, Conn. 



COUNTRIES AKD PEOPLE WE SHOULD KNO^W. 



D THROUGH ASIA 

Pictures of Siberian, Chinese, and Tartar Life, Travels and 

Adventures in Kamchatka, Siberia, China, Mongolia, 

Chinese Tartary, and Russia. 

Experiences on the Iiitlierto almost unknovn Aiiioor Kiver, rlvailius the 

Mississippi iu size nud grandeur ; describing its SpJeudid Vatlej', 

>vitli its Gold Mines, Inliabitauts, etc., etc. 

Full Account of the Siberian Exiles, vith tJieir vorld of Incidents and 
liomance. Thousands of Miles in Sleighs, etc. 

■WITH AN ACCTJRATE AND MINUTE MAP AND NEARLY 

TWO HUNDHED PIITE AND APPEOPPJATS ElTCr.AVING-S, 

B'Sr THE BEST .A.RTISTS. 

BEING A COjrrr.EUENSIVE AND VALUABLE EXPOSITION OF TIIE COL"NTr.IES OP 

Alaska, Kamchatka, Siberia, China, & Russia, as Ihey are to-day. 
By TKOMAS W. KNOX, 

Author of "CaiTip Eire and. Cotton Eield." 

Few know anythinfr of tho prcat country ex;)lorod by tlip autlior. cxci'iit so far as they have 

fathered ideas of it from lloatinj,' rumors and uiiri,lial)lu stories. Comparatively few even would 
now how to proceed to reach it from fc^au Francisco. (Scarcely any know of the magnificent 
river, the Amoor, and of the vast valley it water*. All will be surprised, on reading this book, 
to see how diflerent is the truth, from their Iraajriuinjjs of this entire region and its inhabitants. 

The author of this work came prominently before the public as one of the old War Cor- 
respondents, and has been more recently known as one of the most able and popular writers 
and .i'lirnalists of the day. 

His attempt to go aronnd the world by way of Kamchatka, Siberia, Russia, etc., involving 
thousands of miles travel througli an almost unknown country, drew great attention at the 
time. The successful result, and the safe arrival of the traveller at St. Petersburg, alter a 
journey through the vast region between the nioutli of the Amoor river and that city — a feat 
scarcely ever before performed by a foreigner, — created great interest in the trip; and no 
subject to-day can be more intensely fascinaliug tliau that presented iu this book. 

Agents wanted. Apply to AMEEIOAN PUBLISHING CO., Hartford, Conn. 

THE 'UNCIVILIZED EACES; 
Or, NATUF?AL HISTORY OF MAN. 

A. complete account of the Jilanncrs and Customs, ami the I'liysical, Social, and 

Jtelle/ious Conditions and CJiaracteristics of the Z^ncivili.zed Haces of Men 
O? 3E3d«. O "O" <3r H O XJ T THE U PB" T IU. 13 XV O H. Ij 33. 

By Rsv. J. G. WOOD, M. A., F. L. S., 

A.\i.t\\or of ZS'atviral Histoi-y of Animals, Bible ^i\iiiials, etc., etc. 
■Witli over TOO Fine Illustrations from Ne-w Desij^jns, Tjy Zixrecker, 

Augas Dau'kjy, Haadley, Wolf. e'.;c., 

; UI«a"C3r3EB..A.'V3ElID ^"K" ■I'3E3C33 ^^tOTJcSEZH-S I>.A.IjZ5X3EIIj. 

Bound in 2 Volumes : also in 1 Volume Complete, of nearly 1,700 Pages. 

The author of this work has the endorsement of the most literary men of Oreat Britain. 
He has. by his exhaustive and invaluable works on men, birds, beasts, etc., placed himself 
foremost among writers on Natural History. 

The work here offered is the most interesting of all his writings. Years of travel and care- 
ful research have been spent in its prejiaration. the records of the most famous explorers have 
been studied and compared, living travellers have given their aid to the work, and have con- 
tributed to the author's collection of the dresses, ornaments, maps, etc., of barbarous races, 
from which ample drawings have been made to fully illustrate the work. 

Reflecting every phase of uncivilized life and society, giving life-like pictures of the pecu- 
liar institutioiis and the manners and customs of every class and race of men, except the white, 
on the entire globe, their modes and habits of life, where and how they live, in fact showing up 
the whole outer and inner life of the great majority of the people in the knowu world, in a 
manner and \vith a fulness never equalled, the work is oftered by the publishers with implicit 
faith iu its being rucoguLzed as a book of rare merit and value. 

Agents icantcd. Apply to AMEEICAIT PUBLISHING CO., Hartford, Conn. 



OSTEW A.N1D EISTLA-RG-ED EDITION" 

OF 

EIOHARDSOI^'S 

"BEYOND THE MISSISSIPPI." 

BROUGHT FORWARD TO THE SUMMER OF 1869, 

DESCRIBIXG 

THE OLD WEST AS IT WAS, and THE NEW WEST AS IT IS, 

I FROM TBE GREAT RIVER TO THE GREAT OCEAN. 

620 LARGE OCTAVO PAGES.— 216 ILLUSTRATIONS, 
and the most Minute and Accurate Map of the country in existence. 

isay to 1869. 

THE 

OPENING OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD, 

its Oi'igin, Progress, and Completion, together with all the Great Changes in the 
country incident thereto, are ftilly and faithfully described. It gii-es evert/ Station on 
the roiid, Distances apart, and such other Important Statistics as render it invaluable to all. 

All other proposed Railroad Routes to the Pacific ai'e found upon its map, and are 
duly considered and explained. All subjects connected with these roads are fully 
written up. 

This work gives graphic accounts of the Progress of the Western half of our con- 
tinent, and the most romantic, stirring, and picturesque incidents in its history. 

OF MORMONISM AND POLYGAMY IN UTAH, 

With fine Illustrations of Life in Salt Lake city, of Buigham Young, his Wives, 
Children, Residences, &c., &c. 

Of the great NATURAL CURIOSITIES, of which there arc more in Western 
America than on all the globe beside : among which are the Rocky Mountains and 
the Sierra Nevadas ; Pictured Rocks ; Lakf s among the Clouds ; hundreds of Mineral 
S]n-ings ; Great Salt Lake and its Basin ; the Snake River Cataract of Idaho ; the 
Great Falls of the Missouri ; the una]jproaciied Scenery of Columbia River ; the 
boundless Forests and beautithl Puget Sound of far AVaishington Territory' ; Pike's 
Peak; Long's Peak; Mount Shasta, Mount Hood, Mount Rainer; the Geysers, Big 
Tree Groves, and the stupendous Yosemite Valley of Calilbrnia. 

It descril>es and gives views of THK BIG CANYON OF THE COLORADO 
RIVER, 500 miles long, with the incredible journey of James White throui;h it, 
iiyion a raft, occupying 14 days, during 7 of which White was without food ; of the 

DISCOVEKV AND OPENING UP of the 

NEW WHITE PINE SILVER REGION OF NEVADA, 

which is attracting thousands of emigrants and causing the wildest excitement ever 
known in our mining history. 

COMPLETE STATl!iTICS OF EACH STATE A\D TERRITORY, 

in Gold and Silver, and other Products, increase of Population, number of acres of 
Pul)lic Land, value of same, surrounding Markets, with the inducements otfered to 
settlers, can be found in its ])agcs. No other book extant contains one-half the in- 
formation on the subject contained in this. 

To the Emigrant, to the Traveler, and to all others whose interests or inclinations 
draw their attention westward, this book will be invaluable, treating ftdly of this ])art 
of our country, its vast and unequalled resources, and of the comparative extent, 
ca])abilities, and availabilities of its diffci'cnt sections, giving such information as can 
be obtained from no other source. 

CONDITIONS. 

TTe sell this work with all additions at the original prices. 

Bound in Fine EugUsh Cloth, ---..- S8.50 

'• " " '• Gilt Edge, - . . . 4.OU 

" Leather, (Library Style.) . - - - . 4 00 

Ajmts icanted. Apply to AMEKIOAN PUBLISHINQ CO., Hartford, Ct. 



1 1 ^ L U ^ T 12. ^k. T E I> 

ITS ORIGIN, TRUTH, AND DIVINITY. 

Comprising an account of Patriarchs and Prophets, the scene of their labors, style 
of their writings, character of their prophecies, and the time and niauuer of their 
deaths. The Life of Clirist, his teachings, miracles, death, resurrection and ascen- 
sion. The Lives and Labors of the Apostles, the Primitive Fathers, the Martyrs and 
other prominent defenders of the Christian Faith, with an exposition of the nature, 
design, eti'ect, and linal triumph of Christianity. Giving iu a condensed form, a re- 
liable and comprehensive survey of the Christian Church, from the early ages down 
to modern times. 

EMBRACING A TERM OF OVER 3000 YEARS. 

BY J. E. STEBBINS. 
Eighteen Fine Steel Engravings, 

In the various styles of the art and by the beat artists, with a large map of fncient 
countries and localities, will adorn its pages, and will alone equal in value the cost of 

the book. 

CONDITIONS: 

The Book will be printed, bound and finished in a very superior manner, in modern 
style, excelling in all points. It will contain over six hundred pages and be sold 
through our authorized agents only. 

DELIVERED TO SUBSCPJBERS AT THE FOLLOWING PRICES. 
Extra fine English clot'h, marble edge, ----- §3..50 

" gilt " 4.00 

Library style, (Leather) sprinkled edge, ----- 4. 00 
Half calf, marble edge, ------- 5.00 

Agents Wanted. Apply to AMERICAN PUBLISHING CO., 

Hartford, Conn. 

~~ NEW QUARTO PHOTOGRAPH 



V/ilh Marginal References, Apochrypha, Concordance, an Index, 
Family Record, The Psalms of David in Metre; 

A Table of Text'!: a Table of Kindred and affinity ; a Table of Scriptivreiceighta and meas- 
ures; a Table of Offices and Canditinn (f Men; a Table of Passages in the Old 
Testament qmneil by Ch.ri.st an.l Ifis Apostles ; and. what has never 
been, added, an Account of the Lives and Martyrdom of 

THE APOSTLES AND EVANGELISTS. 

IIjI,USTB,A.TED WITir SEAirTIFjrL STEJEL ENGRAVINGS. 

NOTICE^TO'SUBSCRIBERS. 

Our NEW PH0Tt)6RAPn ALBUM FAMILY BIBLE, which we take pleasure in presenting to 
the imhlic throujrh our traveling aseuts, forms a new ami attractive feature in Bible-making, which 
'at om;e commends itself to eve y home and fireside. The family Bible, with its reeord'of Mar- 
riage?, Births and Deaths, has ever been held as a sacred household treasure, and the present edition 
has. in connection with iis register, an arrangement in album form by which Family Portraits may 
be preserved within its sacred lids; making in realitv, what it purports to be, a Family Bible. It is 
aUipted to Family wants— every family should have it— it fills a void long felt in family circles, and 
We anticipate for it a large and rapid sale. 

oo3srxDn?ioisr s. 

Th<> work is printed on good paper, with ten Fine Steel Engravings, and beautifully bound in 

various styles. 

Prices varying from $6.50 to $i20C. 

Agents Wanted, Apply to 

AMERICAN PUBLISHING CO., Hartford, Conn. 



PERSONAL HISTORY OF 



ILLUSTliATEl) WITH 

Twentj-five New and Elegant Full Page Engravings, 

In Stoel and Wood, among which are two of General Grant, by tlie liest Artists in tlie conn- 
try. Also, Fac-similcs of Kare L)otuments, Public and Private, tlie famous I iiconaitional-Sur- 
rcnder, and other equally interestinir and important Letters, from Originals intrusted to the au- 
thor by General Grant and his friends. 

THE 3XOST r»OI»XJL.A.Il BOOK! OF THE ©EASOTST. 
This volume contains many Documents and Letters of the Highest Importance, relating to 
Civil and Military Matters, SINCE THK WAR, which have never before been made public. 

By ALBERT D. RICHARDSON, 

AUTHOR OF "field, DXINGEON, and escape," and "beyond the MISSISSIPPI." 



AUTHENTIC, AUTHORIZED AND APPROVED. 

Written with the knowledge, consent, and full concurrence of the illustrious General. 
In view of the prominent position now occupied by General Grant, it must be conceded by all 
that a full and truthful history of him, should Jind its way into the hands of every reader. 

No Ameiican citizen should live vnder any President Willi wluose character and antecedents, 
bothjmblic and private, he is not perfectly familica: 

This work differs very essentially from the many "Lives of Grant," now before the public, 
and should by no means be classilled with them. While recording his illustrious achievenituta 
both in the Field and in the Cabinet, it is yet p -rsonal, rather than martial, or polit.cal, 
free from military technicalities or partisan coloring, d 'picting not merely the exploits of G;aiit, 
the soldier, but the entire life of Grant the man, his daily habits and conversation, his thoughts, 
and his motives, as evinced by his acts and his words, under all of the many ditterent circum- 
stances of his eventful career, giving, in fact, a full and clear exhilAt of the inner, as icell us the 
outer man. It has not been prepared for a campaign document, but for the library, and it has 
been admitted by all to be a great acquisition to the biographical literature of the country. It 
contains 5fj0 pages, and in mechanical execution is fully up to our well known style. Its snb 
cription price is, 

Beautifully Bound in Fine Cloth, Sprinkled Edge, 
" " Gilt Edge, - 

" Leather. Library IStyle, ... 

Elegantly Bound in Extra Half Calf, or lialf Turkey, 

Agents Wanted. Apply to AMEEIOAN PUELISHING CO., Hartford, Conn 



$3.00 
3.50 
4.00 
5.00 




By JUNIUS HENUI BRO^VNE. 

The author of this work needs no endorsement. His well laiown signature, as a leading and 
popular correspondent of the press, is welcomed at thousands of firesides in the land. His hab- 
its of close observation, his long experience as a journalist, and his acknowledged talents as a 
V. riter have all been drawn upon and concentrated for months upon this work. 

Ilcflecting every phase of Metropolitan life and society, giving life-like pictures of the inter- 
esting localities and peculiar institutions of New York, the manners and customs of every class 
of its people ; their modes and habits of life; how and whore they live; the great contest -for 
wealth existing among them, and how it is gained and how lost ; revealing scenes of wickeduese 
and of misery ; e.xposing the tricks of the dishonest, and the traps laid for the unwary ; in fact, 
showing up the whole inner life of the great heart of our coiuitry, in a manner and with a full- 
ness never equalled. This volume is respectfully offered by the publishers, with implicit faitii 
in its great value as a book of profit and amusement. 

This work is embcllisliud by 

Over T-weuty Appropriate and Spirited Engravings. 

and is a most beautiful and attractive octavo volume of 700 pages. 

It is sold exclusively hij Agents and can be obtaint:d f ram no~other source, and is delivered to 
sttbscT^bc vs 

Elegantly Bound in Fancy Cloth, Gilt Back and Sides, Sprinlded Edge, - $3.00 

Gilt Edge, - • 3.50 

" " Leather, (Library Style.) Sprinkled Edge, - - • 4.00 

" " Extra Half Caif, or Half Turkey, . - - 5.00 

'i;^~ Payment to be made iqion receipt of the ipork. 

Agents Wanted. Apply to AMEEIOAN PUBLISHING CO., Hartford, Conn 



THE GREAT REBELLION. 

A HISTORY OF THE 



Embracing an authentic account of the whole contest, 

BY HON. J. T. HEADLEY, 

Author of ^^ Napoleon and his Marshals" ^^ Washington and his Generals," ^'Sacred 

Jlountains," &c. 

IN EN&LISH AND G-ERMAIST. 



This Great Work commences with tlie first outbreak of the war, and gives a full 
and truthlul account of the terrible struggle to its very end, aud closing with the He- 
ports of Generals Grant and Sliennan. 

Noting each important and interesting event, with time and place of its occurrence, 
with perfect accurac)', stating only as facts tliose things which are well authenticateil, 
this work cannot fail, ere long, to be accepted by all as a standard autuokitv, and 
as stich will jirove of immense value to its possessors as a hook for reference, aud 
no library will be considered complete without a copy of it upon its shelves. 

This work is printed from a beautiful, clear, new type, on good paper, and is ilhis- 
trated witii over seventy tirst-class Steel Engravings, consisting of Military and Naval 
Scenes, and Portraits of Ollicers prominent in the war. 

It will be beautifully aud substantially bound in One Superb Volume of nearly 
Twdre Hundred Ptujes. 

Price, Library Style, (Leather) Sprinkled Edge, - - - f.5.00 

Embossed Morocco, do do - - - 5.00 

do do Gilt do - - - - 5.50 

Agents Wanted. Apply to AMERICAN PUBLISHING CO., 

Hartford, Conn. 

THE SECRET SERVBCE, 

The Field, The Dungeon and The Escape. 

By ALBERT D. RICHARDSON, (Tribune Correspondent.)- 
The above work embraces the entire narrative of 
Mr. RICHARDSON'S Unparalled Experience for Four Years. 

I. Traveling through the South in the secret service of the Trihune at the outbreak of the W.ir. 

II. With our armies ami fleets both Kast and West, during the first two years of the Rebellion. 
HI. His thrilling capture while running the batteries on the Mississipiji lilver at Vicksburg,wher« 

more than half his companions were either killed or wouniU-d. 

IV. His confinement for twenty months in seven different Uebel Prisons. 

V. His escape and almost Miracuhms Journey by night, of nearly 400 miles, aided by Negroes and 
Union Mountaineers of North Carolina and Tennessee through the enemy's country to our lines. 

t abounds in stirring events never before given to the jinblic. and contains minute details of 
the escape, which have not vet appeared, including a descrii^tiou <.!' 1)AN KLLIS.the famous Union 

Pilot, and the "UNKNOWN GUIDE," in the person of a Young Lady, who piloted I.lr. 
Eichardson and his con^rades by night out of a Kebel amlju=h. 

In view of the author's rich material, his well known trustworthine.os, and graphic descriptive 
powers, the publishers feel justified in predictins a w<>rk of unusual interest, coiitaining more of 
the FACT, INCIDENT AND KOMANCE OF THE WAR, than any other which has yet appeared. 

The work is offered in the best style of typography, on good paper, andcontainfw^<3/'500 Octavo 
Pages and Ninetetm Engravings. 

Price, Cloth, (neat and substantial,) ....... $.3.00 

Library Style, (Leather) Sprinkled Edges, ..... 3.50 

The book is published in the German language, same styles of binding, and same prices. 

Agents Wanted. Apply to AMEEIOAIT PUBLISHING CO., 

Hartfo'd. Conn. 



K 7 16 



/) 



